DISCLAIMER*: There is no protagonist shipping. There are going to be some NPC shipping (as best as I can write because...I'm honestly not that great at writing romance. Sorry, people)
Chapter Summary
- A FRIENDLY CHAT
Fuck… I got caught. By the woman I was supposed to kill. Maybe it's for the better… But there's something about this person. And this group of hers... Immunity? I don't want to believe it but...they know about the Tower. - Kyle
SIX: VOICELESS
There were a million things Crane wanted to do. And a million things he wanted to change. Just for things to go back to normal. But that list was extremely long—he has made too many decisions that royally screwed him over—working for GRE, being a lying bastard, following orders, and more. He was already a monster before he turned into one.
There were also a few things he wanted to ask himself. But, even if he had the answers, they were either the ones he didn't want to hear or the ones he knew all along.
Right now, in the darkest parts of his mind, one question stuck out on top of all the others.
"-What am I doing?!"
The woman in red beat him to the punch.
"This is the same freak that tried to eat me! Twice!"
The aggressive pacing back and forth was enough to stir Crane into opening his eyes. All he could do was watch the lady think aloud, as clueless as he was. After all, she had finally caught him—the talking sentient zombie, a sentence that hit the ball right out of the park and onwards to the ocean.
She couldn't handle that. If he could talk, he'd tell her she wasn't alone. But that would make things worse.
"Everyone's gonna tell you you've gone mental. Again-!"
He slipped back into the darkness. There was nothing for him. It didn't matter if he had this new body; he was powerless and helpless. He couldn't even finish the task he gave himself. He was far from home—and the people at the Tower wouldn't give a second thought if they saw him. He was one big, fat threat to everyone and anyone.
"Alright. I can tick off 'voices in my head' and add 'zombie friend' to my bucket list! How about that?!"
Most of all, he was on the edge between human and infected, on neither side of the coin.
This couldn't go on any longer.
He had gone mad ever since he 'woke up' without knowing it.
"...What do I got to lose anyway." She sighed before she wheeled around. Crane's vision was too blurry but he watched her form get closer to him, the one who planned to kill her out of mercy. "Alright."
Crane had been waiting for this. Expecting it. He would be lying to himself that it didn't frighten him—someone was about to take his life. It was more bewildering that she took this long to axe him down.
He closed his eyes.
He could get peace.
"You're coming with me."
What?
No. Stop.
Don't come near me.
He was a danger. His consciousness swam back up as he tried. Could he even stop her? And when he glanced up, he saw…
The Mother.
Standing mockingly before him. Looking over him conceitedly with that sun-shaped mask of hers. Hiding her true face. Grotesque. Deceiving.
A lie.
How could she have come back? He killed her. He ripped her head off.
He wanted to move. Get her before she'd do anything again.
Kill her-
"Hey. Freakazoid." The image was interrupted violently by the thick accent. Where the Mother kneeled down before him, the woman in the red jacket took her spot. Even up close, Crane couldn't read her eyes—who would have thought that a zombie couldn't see past reflective lenses?
She waved a hand and waited for a response.
Nothing. Crane was in and out again. He didn't feel himself being carried.
"Urrrgh...! Christ... You're blooming heavy," she complained, shuffling his limp body with an arm over her shoulder. "Lose some weight, why don't you?"
Shaddup… He had a long few days.
Kyle wanted to voice that out. But he was too tired.
And yet this person was going out of her way to carry his pathetic body somewhere. Did she not have any common sense? Anyone would run away from a dangerous infected. Let alone try poking it with a stick.
No, that was wrong. She had many times where she should have kicked the bucket. But the cautiousness, the moves and the probing; she had been down the same vicinity as he had. The strange lady took the biggest risk ever to stop for an infected. Not out of courtesy, or any sort of oath. Just because she was ordered—Crane was her group's main target for some reason.
That didn't matter. He was stuck here, inside a monster. Alone and with no hope. So if one gets badly-bruised lemons...might as well make lemonade. But first, he was going to need help and that was something he had never asked for before. Kyle Crane had always been the lone wolf, soloing his way around and taking the responsibility upon himself, light or heavy.
As crazy as it sounded in his head, this woman might be the best bet Crane needed.
Since she was offering a hand, he'd take the chance. Just this one time, he'd call out for help. The brunette intended to carry him like a soldier dragging the sick and wounded across a battlefield.
That was if she hadn't changed her mind and decided to kill him later.
"Hey."
Click, click, click!
Crane's eyes snapped open to the sharp snapping of fingers. Right to an ear. So there was a downside to such powerful hearing.
In his awakening moment, he tried to move. His body refused. Crane found his hands tied up with cable ties. Military standards—the woman must have picked these from the parking lot when she fled...
But did she really think this would stop him? He could use a talon to cut free. Then again, Crane had one foot in la-la-land to put that to the test.
Footsteps ambled across wooden planks. Carefully. It took a second for him to realize the place he was in was new—a shabby hotel's room from the looks of it. The master bed had been destroyed completely from being scavenged. There had been recent tenants inside, already hacked down by the blood-stained crowbar. And it was still in the brunette's hand, ready for anything.
It was just him and the strange woman in the bedroom.
She had dragged Freakazoid's body all the way to the hotel for a seemingly-safe place. There was the room service to do: drop his body on the mossy carpeted floor, kill the two Biters, barricade the door for no interruption and make sure the room had good enough space for her to maneuver around an unpredictable Hunter. Just in case her whole setup could be ruined. Once she woke the beast up, the brunette leaned against a drawer and waited.
For what? For him to do something? Crane murmured his tiredness out with a struggling attempt to sit up.
"Now. Today's been a wild ride for me," she started. "I'm guessing it's the same for you. Not every day you find an infected that 'talks' to you."
Yup...the elephant in the room.
Not like he was trying to hide it.
"For all I know, I could be losing it. And I'll be all right with that." The woman let the silence hang with a stern glimpse behind the shades. "But you're not like others. You know how to fight."
Fight with his claws, tendrils, and teeth or fight like a human? But Crane refrained from saying anything.
"If you really are some kind of highly-aware walker and you're not gonna rip me to shreds...I'll take the binds off." She positioned herself in a more threatening stance, holding an unlit UV flashlight out as a warning. "But don't be upset at me if you attack first."
Fair enough. Crane had no quarrels.
"So… Let's have a friendly chat, shall we?"
The sentence just made Kyle feel like he was back at school in front of his strict middle-grade teacher. The crowbar was the ruler. The lady's tone, though, was more of "I've been through too much and if you pull one more stunt, I'm shutting you up."
Crane partially regretted his early decision. He thought over the pros and cons, and gathered together his choices in his head.
This group of hers...they tagged him as a 'candidate'. They had plans. Which meant he was going to become an experiment. Probably be opened up like a frog on a dissecting tray. But they wanted him alive.
Moreover, a talking zombie to this group could be something of a gem in the rough they could exploit. And he didn't like that idea of being someone's infected pet.
C'mon. Stop hesitating. Didn't he want help? The brunette was particularly giving him the chance he needed! She offered her ear! As crazy as it sounded, she might just be the only person willing to hear a 'talking zombie' out. There was no denying that she had heard both his words and...whatever the telepathic jumbo was.
But should he risk it? Inside the room, he had as little trust as she did in him.
All of a sudden, a sigh from the woman broke the tension.
"Yeah, Jackie," she uttered to herself. She bolted for the door. "You were totally losing it."
Wait. Wait! Wait! You just heard me talk!
Crane still needed answers. Moreover, he needed someone right now. Anyone!
"W-Wait."
The distorted voice out of him was enough to send shivers in the human—she went back in fight mode, her weapon whipped high up like the bat of a baseball pitcher. She was primed and ready.
Yeah, he should stop using his real voice. Even he wasn't used to it yet. Which meant he had no choice but to 'thought-speak'.
This was going to make things more awkward for the both of them. But he tried again.
"Wait." Man, was his head still swimming. Kyle shook his head with a gruff, failing to catch the flinching off the woman's tense shoulders. "Please."
The weapon still stayed high for what seemed like aeons to Kyle. The brunette searched for the voice in her head, her gaze falling back on the Hunter. She waited again for any sudden move. But she only for an honest plead out of a monster.
"What the…" She was too flabbergasted to finish her sentence, lowering down the crowbar and stepping even further from him. "I thought I was hearing things."
"You're not the only one," he continued languidly. An attempt to help break the ice.
It wasn't working. The frown on her face got a lot thinner than before. The weapon was still at a level that could do some damage if he'd make a mistake.
"How...how are you doing that?" she dared to ask. "What are you?"
"I wish I knew how." The fog in his head slowly cleared up but the headache still lingered. He forced himself to straighten up. "Hrgmm…"
The groggy growl could have been mistaken for a threat, enough for the grip on the crowbar to be tightened and hinged back for a prepared hit. The expanding rib cage from one inhale was also as threatening as a Volatile ready for the kill. But as he deflated, the weapon arched down slowly.
"...But I think I have an idea or two on what."
"Oh. Ok," she chided, putting her hands on her hips. He wasn't sure if it was an attempt to shake off her discomfort or not. "How about sharing it with the class then?"
Share? It wasn't like he was keeping it a secret. There was nothing stopping him except himself. The answer was plain and simple.
And he hated it.
A sentient zombie. Maybe even like the Mother herself, a sentient Volatile.
The reality behind it finally sunk in and it hurt. Horribly.
Crane was about to give that answer. Gazing up at the woman, however, stopped him. Because he had just noticed something about her.
Or was it his 'infected' side telling him that?
There was something...off. But he couldn't put his finger on it. She was human, yes; she hadn't turned like him. Yet.
It didn't help that his vision saw everything 'behind' anything, as confusing as it sounded if he could explain it to a person. There was a drawback to his infected capabilities: humans lit up like fireflies at night and day while Kyle was almost desensitized to the presence of the undead. It wasn't so much a 'lack of it' but more of 'a need' to find humans. Prey.
The orange pulse beating in the brunette's chest was just like that in any other survivor. But the vibe was different. Strange. Unexplainable. The only thing Kyle could describe to himself was how visibly deep the hue was through her veins. A little darker, dimmer. Blood orange.
She is back.
That wasn't his gut telling him, but the voice knew what she was: not prey but neither predator.
He could clearly see right then and there that the lady was not the Mother. A Caucasian woman in her mid-thirties, wearing an attire sort of compatible for survival but also for the brawl—if it wasn't for that flashy red jacket. Not a sentient Volatile in old traditional clothes and jewelry, with her tongue drooping behind her rotten mandibles.
And yet several times, the voice kept aggressively pointing out that the Mother was back. That she stood in the brunette's place.
The impatience on the woman's eyebrows and frown drew thin, but nothing lashed out from her; after all, she had just noticed an infected was giving a hard look at her for some reason.
And now that he had a good look at her...it prompted him to ask her a question.
"You… Why are you like Mother?"
He could have sworn the expression on her face tightened even more as her shades slipped down the bridge of her nose.
"Excuse me?" she muttered aloud.
"No...I…" Crane groaned, unable to get another word out because of the dizziness. He plopped his heavy head down on the floorboards. That sounded so stupid now that he thought about it. "How hard did you hit me?"
"Clearly not hard enough," the brunette droned, sounding so offended that she was prompted to throw out a laugh. "I have to be an ugly parent to birth you, Freakazoid. And I don't have children."
"N-No. Not you… Someone else," he struggled so much with both the grogginess and the hatred. Even the thought of calling this random woman 'mother' was nauseous. OR that Volatile freak.
"Right. I think I've had my fill for the day." Off she wheeled for the door with a wave of goodbye. "Take care."
Wait.
Hold on!
Just like that?!
This woman wasn't even fazed at all?! Normal people would be, for crying out loud!
"W-Wait a second!" Crane gave himself a hard shake of his head, overwhelmed with disbelief. "You're just gonna leave...? You found a talking infected!"
"Yes. Until you called me 'mother'." She didn't even give him a chance to defend himself. "That's good enough reason for me not to stick with someone who's gone proper bonkers. Human or infected wise."
"It wasn't my intention. And look who's talking. Who tries to pick a fight with the GRE?"
"Oh. So someone who has been turned knows about them," the brunette pointed with intrigue. It almost felt like Crane had made a mistake there, shedding off a piece of his secrets. "Then you should already know that they aren't the kind of people who would let me live."
Ok, that was true. He couldn't deny that.
The woman in red slapped her hands together, the kind that said she was done with this conversation. "Look. There's probably some sob story before you got turned into...this. But I've got better things to do than listen to the voice in my head." The smile expressing the phrase, "no offense" on her face stayed strong while the growing nihilism stayed on Crane's. "Sooo, goodbye and good luck, mate."
With that, she headed for the door. Back to him.
Crane couldn't believe it.
Why, you arrogant, little…
She may have hog-tied his claws down. But the spite in him helped split them open, and out came the tendrils.
Spider-webbed right at her heels.
"Whoa! Gak!" The sudden jerk and the hard floor certainly took Jack by surprise, making her drop the flashlight. And the crowbar. Desperately, she tried to claw away but the unnatural appendages snaked around her arms and pulled her body forward. "Vicious bastard!"
Closer she was pulled to the Hunter, who was now purposefully expanding himself to snap off the binds. Fear swallowed Jack whole—Freakazoid was free. He towered over her, a giant in a dog's presence.
There wasn't Mr. Nice Guy anymore. He certainly wasn't going to show her courtesy because she was a woman. Kyle was done getting walked on.
An infected didn't need tolerance.
"You listen here." The ex-kickboxer tried to struggle her way out, but he had made sure the wraps stayed tight. Very tight. Grabbing her by her collar and bringing her to his face for a closer look at the monster. Enough to sell the idea that he wasn't a joke. "I don't know how I got my marbles back. But it's got something to do with you."
"Oh. How flattering," she droned. But she was shaking. "Except I have no idea what you mean, mate!"
"Well, better start thinking. Because I can switch back." Her angry glare shrunk away. Oh shit indeed. "So unless you don't want me biting your face off, you're gonna tell me what you did back at that chapel."
"So you do remember our little scuffle." Did she always act so schmuck to everyone she met? "Hm. Ok. Then you should remember that you were trying to kill me!"
He clicked his teeth inside his closed mouth, a very thin frown plastered on his face. That was all true. He wasn't trying to pass the blame onto a stranger.
"I...I know…" The grip softened. Just a little. For a tiny glimpse, Freakazoid didn't look so big and threatening to the Wild Dog. "I shouldn't even be back."
The torch Crane had been given—the Mother forced it upon him. When she forced that blue liquid into his mouth, it sealed his fate forever.
"Maybe you'll understand when you see it with my eyes."
A day and a night, he saw through the same eyes the Mother had—that far in as a grotesque beast—and he wished for everything to be normal. Even glancing down at the woman, his insides twisted. He acted out fiendishly, ready to tear her apart, just as he nearly did to that runner the other night.
He wasn't this monster. He was still human. And he wanted his feet back on the ground.
"But...I need help," he started. "...And you're all I got right now."
That was the truth. For the first time in his life, Crane had finally said it from his own lips. Inside the hotel room, he exposed his weak side inside the hideous shell to a complete stranger. The mysterious brawler was his best and only lead.
Her shades had slipped off the woman's face during the struggle. Her pretty hazel eyes were the windows into a person's soul. The first reaction was the trepidation, which quickly gave way to confusion. Then observation, a hard and serious glance. The red-jacketed woman examined the vulnerability from an infected—probably because she had no choice but to listen. She had a freak on top of her, her limbs bound together.
But it was so strange for someone in this kind of situation to look unusually calm.
Then, out of the blues, she grinned. Like a Cheshire Cat. Her head tilted to the right, with her messy braided ponytail swaying over her shoulder. Crane felt the curls brush against his vein-covered claw.
Wait. Was that on purpose?
"Hm-hm." There was an odd tone in her voice. A laugh. "...Is this your way of softening me up so I can go easy on you?"
Crane's animalistic eyes widened, and his grip let go of her collar so Jack plopped back down, still smiling. He felt a lump get stuck in his throat. "What?"
Clueless. And the woman in red played on that, swaying her head left and eyeing him with a spark that...kind of scared and welcomed him at the same time. "Alright. I'll play along. So what did you do before you got turned into...this? Did it simple? Slow? Or were you the type who likes to 'indulge the moment'?"
His eyes grew even more. The bells inside his skull rang violently.
"Whoa! Hang on!" His voice cracked. It didn't make it any better that the distorted voice of a monster was breaking. "Time out!"
The brunette hunched an eyebrow. Why the shyness? She coaxed silently with that grin. "You said you got your marbles back. And you were human once. Can't be your first time-"
"W-What first time?!" Was she seriously suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?! Also, what?! Huh?!
His brain couldn't process any of this! Did he really get messed up in the head?!
"Come now. You've probably smoothed your way into a lot of hearts in the past, yes? Tall, dark, mysterious, strong guy but he hides a soft interior that gets everyone thinking he just needs help out of his thick skin," she sang, mimicking the stereotypical tone a woman out for a good time at the bar would use. But her eyes narrowed after scanning Beastly from head to toe. "Thicker skin?"
"A-Are we really talking about this?!" Why was he feeling flustered? Was it because of the room?! Wait, no! Why should an infected feel embarrassed?
Also, NO! He wasn't that kind of person outside of work!
"Hm. Maybe I was wrong. You're rather finicky for a bloodthirsty Hunter."
She was toying with him. She had to be!
"This isn't what you think-!"
Unknowingly, Crane's full-blown embarrassment had weakened his tendril clutch over the mischievous woman. The awkwardness widened the distance between him and her as he 'politely' pushed himself off the lady.
Just enough room for her to attack. Because her catty grin changed.
To a toothy, dangerous one.
There was the wicked gleam he saw back at the parking lot and the bank.
Oh shit.
It was too late. Her legs shot up and lassoed around his neck. The crazy brawler wasn't going to let him go. Her tied-up arms literally roped around his head! Shit! She somehow grabbed onto his tentacles to stop them from retracting!
He underestimated her. Quickly, the petite brunette turned this against Crane!
Didn't matter! He halfway knew what that move was-!
But before he could retaliate and stop her from finishing the body throw, the real attack came at Crane out of the blue! Her hands pushed him forward, closer to her maddening eyes.
And he saw a set of pearly-white teeth ready to sink down.
"Mmph-!" At first, the angle he witnessed deceived him—almost like she was ready to tear at his neck. No, he felt soft lips on his rough lips, his wide-eyed gaze staring down at her mischievous stare.
One second was the overwhelming, spontaneous shock heating up in his stomach; the next, pain on soft tissue.
"Gack!"
It made Crane finch back, off his knees. She hadn't become a Biter, but she deliberately bit him! Of her own volition. Again!
He could feel something tear in his mouth as he shoved his berserk attacker off him. His tongue ran over the holes and red droplets. The taste of iron—then suddenly, another taste mixed together. Something tasted vile and horrible in his mouth. Acidic and bitter.
That was what Jack gunned for—the monster's flinching.
A natural reaction after being bitten up front.
Because in his panic, the tendrils had been retracted back into his arms when he cowered back. The space between them was much wider, and her limbs were free for her to continue the toss. Freakazoid's world went in one big circle as Jack forced him over. The roles switched: the brunette was the one on top of him: a forearm on his apple, her weight pinning him down, and her legs locking his arms from firing the tentacles.
A ruse. And Crane fell for it like a pranked, red-faced schoolboy.
"Now you listen well, jackarse," she demanded. "I have no idea why you're able to think. Could have been all those punches I gave to your noggin."
That was one possibility he had thought of before. But Crane couldn't voice that out with his throat being pushed in.
"But! We can figure this out together. Because you might be the missing link the Ravs have been looking for this entire time."
Missing link?
"What...?"
"You're a bloody mystery. And if solving that mystery can get us one step closer to finding a cure, then it could save everyone! All I ask is for your cooperation. No more of this tentacle stunt either!" She gave another push to reinforce her point. "Capisce?"
"What are you talking about?" Crane asked as he choked. "There's already one being made."
It had to. Camden was on it_
"Of course, I know that. I'm surprised an infected like you know too." She was then just as surprised as Kyle was. But for a different reason. More cautious. "Wait, can zombies read minds? Do you read minds?"
She knows about Camden and the cure? When? How?
The woman in red shook her head—move on with the main topic first. "Whatever. The fact is, we've got nobody to help us. GRE are a bunch of bootlickers and the whole bleedin' world has ditched this country."
Oh boy. If only she knew she was sitting on top of an ex-GRE agent.
"And I'm bloody sure you know that better than anyone."
There was a strong tone to that last sentence—this lunatic had observed Crane well enough to see past the 'infected mindlessness', to know how far he was capable of doing. And another thing he never thought she would pick on; sympathy.
"Do you want to be cured?"
He did.
He really did.
It was the whole reason Crane started this long journey. Not just for himself, but for everyone in Harran.
That moment of hesitation—the yearning in those silver eyes—loosened her shove a little. A tiny compromise for air. "Then help me do my job."
"...And what the hell is your job?" He bared his canines at her, trying to worm his neck from her arm. But no go.
"To find out what's happening to this virus and to all of us. That's my job."
The Day Hunter looked at her like she was mad. No, she definitely was. This virus was doing exactly what it did—it brought back the screaming damned. It turned him into this. It killed lives and destroyed homes. What was the point of learning more from it?
But he couldn't deny that there was something up with this virus and the brunette understood that. So did her group. Had it festered and spread into something more dangerous during the time he was out? Did Crane and the others overlook something? Or was it another wild goose chase this group sent her on?
It had to be. All the leads Crane found and explored all the way were nothing but dead ends and broken promises. The only thing left was for Camden to finish the cure.
Yet, he couldn't let it go. The wanting was deceiving him, and the hope was poisonous. The sneaky question of "could this be the lead he was searching for this entire time?" wrinkled deep into his thoughts and even his black heart.
"What say you?"
The determination in the woman's stance encouraged that hope in him. A person he gave the Harran virus was unbelievably dead set on finding the answer before she would kick the bucket.
...Alright. Let's see how far this rabbit hole would take them. So Crane stopped his squirming.
"Crystal," he said. "Now get off."
Her smirk came back.
"Good." The woman bounced off the scary monster. "Glad we've come to an agreement."
Again. Just like that. She simply readjusted her shades back over her eyes, as if nothing ever happened inside the room.
"Gack..." This shit attitude. She was like Rahim. Crane cowered back as he ran his thumb over the holes in his lower lip. The bitemark smarted. "Dammit... Y-You...you bit me!"
"What are you, a big baby? You didn't lose an ear like Masha did."
"What? Who - What the FUCK is wrong with you? I have the Harran virus!" he hollered. The biggest deal she should be thinking about!
"And? I'm already infected." And the deal was shoved aside like yesterday's old news. "Can't get any worse than that."
Kyle was lost for words.
"Christ on a crutch," he finally uttered as the woman leaned back to a wall, hands in pockets. "Normal people should be worrying about turning into those Biters!"
"I'll cross that road when I get there," she replied so confidently. "And that's a long way for me to go."
This brunette really had no sense of fear!
"Are you this egotistical to anyone? Or just to the infected?"
Jack simply shrugged her shoulders, her grin staying stubbornly strong. "Well. It is one of my redeeming qualities. Need to keep up the act on television, after all."
"I'm sorry?"
"You know, a box that shows moving images. A TV," she pointed.
"I know what a TV is," he hissed. "...This was a bad idea."
"What? You're in the presence of an old idol. Not an actress if that's what you were hoping for, but a pro's better than nothing."
"Ok. You've completely lost me. What are you talking about?"
The woman in red gave an odd look of puzzlement at the disconnected vibe she was getting, the shades sliding down the bridge of her nose again. As if she needed Beastly to clarify that he wasn't pulling her leg.
Hey, he was on the same page as she was. He didn't get what she was going on about.
"Hang on. You know about GRE...but you don't recognize me on TV?"
"Why should I? You're some narcissistic spokesperson I should know about?"
It was then that it clicked with her. Jack glanced at him, insulted. Offended! She flayed out her arms, presenting herself. "Mad Jack."
All she got was a shrug from Freakazoid—a gesture saying "And?".
"The Wild Dog?" Nothing. So she tried again. "Previous kickboxing world champion? Four years in a row? 2011 showdown between me and the Scorpion at the Scanderoon Sports Palace?!"
Absolutely nothing but a shake of the head. To be frank, Crane wasn't into kickboxing. Or much into any women's sports, for that matter.
But that title she just said…
Before he could think about it, Jack's arms dropped to her sides. The mouth gaped wide open, a fly could wander in and choke her.
"Unbelievable… What was I even thinking?" she said to herself with a scoff. "As if a walker would know this kind of stuff."
"Hey. I do know. I was a human," he hissed. Maybe he should have rethought before he decided to rely on the lunatic woman. Again, Kyle. A lunatic!
"Well, clearly, you were more into the hockey channel when you were human."
He narrowed his eyes. "...Ok, that was a good guess. I'll give you that."
"Of course. You're too easy to read."
And now she was talking out of her ass. Him? A freak was easy to read like a book?
Jack heaved out a sigh of relief, as if finally she'd gotten over the hurdle Freakazoid gave. Her hand reached for her ear. "Bones' gonna have a field day with this one-"
"No." Fear fueled Freakazoid to leap quickly thank Jack could use the earpiece. A claw latched onto her wrist.
One person learning about him was enough. 'More' was too much. It was a terrible idea; if more people knew, it'd be a circus. And Crane was the freakshow.
But something stopped him. He felt it sharp and right at his abdomen. In his attempt at stopping her from making a call, the brawler swung her crowbar at him, ready to pierce. The cheeky smile vanished from her face, and she glanced at him, eye to eye. She did warn him; she'd give the first blow if Freakazoid overstepped his boundary.
"I'm not...fine with this. With any of this… I don't want anyone else knowing."
"Then you can leave."
Crane was dumbfounded at the quick response. But she wasn't kidding.
"I'm not going to pretend and slip it under the rug. The Ravs need all the intel they can get. You can't stop me because you're scared."
"I'm not…" It wasn't fear. It was shame. Hence, his sentence died out in Crane's mouth.
"You want a cure," she reinforced that point to him. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do."
His grip tightened on her wrist, but she didn't show any reaction. He consciously stopped himself, afraid that his inhuman strength could snap the bones.
Negotiations were out the window. Because she was right—they wouldn't get anywhere if he tried to stall. But what could she do? Everything about this woman and her group was vague. Hell, he had never heard of this Ravs group.
It could be another faction trying to exploit innocent lives. Or a bunch of people selling lies and fake concoctions. But they had some sort of mission that was important to them.
Immunity. Secret weapon. Cure.
What was their game? Was it out of desperation?
No. The woman's whole body exhumed a strong aura as she stared down at a dangerous mutant... Well, up since she was so petite to him. There was something in her stance that reminded him a bit too much of himself in his first few days—only that she had an 'older' look about her. Not just age-wise. But experience-wise.
Crane could tell—there was no getting through to her...
He grunted with defeat and let go of her hand. Like a child being forced to obey his parent, he went to a corner. Out of spite.
That was a sight Jack had never thought to see. A brooding zombie.
"Bones, do you copy?"
"Jack? Oh, thank god. What happened to you? You went radio silent."
"Sorry about that. Had a run-in with GRE doing some kind of recon."
"Them again." A loud groan seeped through the mic.
"Sounds like you had your fair share over there."
"They found one of our old hideouts. Now they're trying to look for us."
"Hm," Jack huffed. "Well, they certainly never expected survivors to still be alive in the Outskirts. Taking all sorts of measures, I presume?"
"All of it. And there's Lenny's traps. Doesn't help that they're up to something."
Or looking for something, Crane thought to himself as he listened.
"We don't have any eyes on them?"
"Geyong said she might be able to in a couple of days. Her words, not mine. For now, Rangers are keeping an eye out."
"I guess things are still the same even after I left."
"Things aren't the same. The new base needs repair, we're thin on numbers and you're in another infested city, chasing after a Grad's half-boiled ideas."
"Now I wouldn't call them half-boiled. I did find you a Candidate, didn't I?"
"Speaking of which, how's the Hunter-catching?"
Right. The tracking. Crane had almost forgotten he was being watched, tagged and followed. Even if he would have cut ties with this woman, her group still had tabs on him to the ends of the world.
Where the hell was this damn tracker, he asked again and tiredly.
"Right. The Day Hunter." Jack paced about with a nervous step. Oh dear. How was she going to explain this one without sounding crazy? It was already terrible when she thought about it.
"I've been watching the whole time." Which meant this person was seeing two dots in a small space on the monitor. "He wasn't too much trouble?"
"Trouble." Took the word right out of her mouth. "Bones. About Freakazoid… There's something you need to know."
"About?"
"He's never going to believe you."
Jack wheeled back, her silence responding to the creepy thought-speech in her head. If Freakazoid could see past the sunglasses, he would notice how big her eyes were.
How in the blazes-?
The Day Hunter must have pieced the conversation together. No, he heard Bones' replies. And he was waiting for the curtains to fall with that snobbish posture of his. Not for his failure of a performance, but hers.
"Go ahead. I'm sure this will go well."
Oh, this hooligan. He banked on the Ravens thinking she had gone insane.
"Excuse me. Earlier, you were saying you didn't want others knowing about you-"
"Jack? You've got company?" the young voice called out.
"Yes. Company. Let's call it that. So this candidate...can do a lot more than just being a clever little individual."
Little? She was kidding, right?
"Ok. What else can he do?" Bones asked warily.
If he asked for it, Jack couldn't do anything but comply. "Remember our discussion about communication between the infected?"
"Yeah?"
Jack paced around slowly, eyes still on the grumpy Day Hunter. Who was to say he wouldn't jump on her to stay quiet?
"He talked to me."
"...I'm sorry. What?" It was almost like the voice on the other end didn't catch that. No, he needed another confirmation. "Can you repeat that again?"
"The Day Hunter. Talked to me," Jack explained firmly.
"Ah. Ok… Metaphorically or verbally?"
"Verbally."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm absolutely sure." Thank heavens, this was starting off well.
"Right… I'll get Asem." Then out came the outburst, away from the mic. "Asem! Someone get Asem!"
"Now hold on a minute! Come back to the mic, Bones!"
"I knew you going alone was a bad idea. We should have gotten you a Lifeline," the young man mumbled over the line.
"Listen, this is not one of those moments. I am perfectly sane!" Jack debated.
"I beg to differ."
"Oh, you be quiet," she snapped at the brooding, smartarse Hunter.
"Me? What did I do?" Bones uttered over the comms.
"No, not you. I mean him. The talking infected," she snapped, gesturing a palm to the cause of her newest problems.
"Uh-huh. Jack. You just told me a zombie spoke to you."
"Yes, I'm making it much worse than how it sounded in my head," she droned. "I'm telling the truth. Freakazoid can talk to me."
"Hey. Why am I being called Freakazoid?"
Ok, dumb question for Kyle to think of right now, but that nickname felt a little unnecessary.
"You see him on the map. He can say one word over the comms."
"Wait a minute. He's not even tied up?!"
"He already tore off the binds, Bones."
"Kill it before it kills you!"
"Ok, now that's hurtful," Crane mumbled to himself.
"That would be the logical thing to do. If he didn't have such a riveting personality," she chided, wheeling away so she could whisper softly, "And he's a big, sordid whiner."
"I heard that."
The brunette ignored him.
"O-K. So basically, you have a domesticated killing machine in the same room with you."
"That can talk," Jack emphasized. "And he can do it telepathically too." She turned back to the Hunter. "You have no qualms if I tell him that, right?"
Freakazoid was about to speak-
"No? Good."
He slouched back defeatedly. "Fuck you too, lady."
"Right. Look. You've had a few rough days. " Oh, god. This talk. And the fact that Jack was getting it from a person a decade younger than her was an insult—it particularly made her eyes roll back. "Yeah. You've shown you can do things on your own. But not when your condition can trigger at any time. You need Rav backup. With you. In person."
"Alright. Then send a Ranger to my location. They can see the proof." Freakazoid's eyes bugged out wide. He clearly didn't like this. But a lock-on from the woman stopped him from even trying to tip-toe. "If you run, Freakazoid, I'm coming after you."
Crane grumbled quietly to himself. He actually believed her.
"Hey," she exclaimed with that saleswoman tone of hers. "Just say the word and this can be all sorted out. You don't have to meet anyone new."
No budge out of Beastly. It was almost convincing—as if all of his problems could be solved just like that.
But Freakazoid huffed at her. He simply folded his arms with satisfaction.
"Arsehole."
"And now she's playing with the zombie… Ok. Just...head back to the Junction. We don't need to do this project anymore."
She muffled down a loud groan. "Both of you are not making this easier on me."
"Easier? Do you hear yourself?" Bones asked. "The chances of an infected talking 'normally' are zero! Some of them had their cords ripped out by other infected. Before they were turned!"
"Looks like I hit the jackpot on this one," she uttered in hopes the conversation would go her way.
"Jack, all they can do is just go "grrrrrr!". They're too brain-dead to have any vocabulary come back to them. The same goes for this one!"
The show was nice at the beginning, but the more Crane listened to the other voice, the more irritated he grew. He had given a pass earlier just for the sake of watching the woman lose her dignity and pride in one conversation, but now this far in and his nerves were stuck.
The know-it-all loudmouth kept going on with his droning.
"Uh, Bones?"
"No, no. This time, you're listening to me. The infected are nothing more than walking piles of rotten flesh without any neutron left inside their skulls. And we are all gonna become like them! That's fact we can't escape."
Jack had sensed how heavy the room had become. It was only then that she peered back to see her guest, now up and personal, next to her. His horrid face had darkened under the hood, just as terrifying as the very beasts that chased her last night.
His animalistic glare bored into her—no, towards the voice over the comms.
"Right now, you're hallucinating, and that's already something to be concerned about. But hey, if you're so convinced that this one zombie's different, then we'll get him a collar and a water bowl. Just please, come back to the Outskirts so we can have you checked, Jack," Bones begged, unaware of what was happening on the other end of the line.
"Hand it over here."
Jack blinked with surprise behind her shades, then gazed at the open palm she was given.
So Freakazoid finally grew a pair.
"Hang on, Bones. You got a call."
"What?" Jack immediately handed over her earpiece to Freakazoid. "Seriously, Jack! This isn't funny anymore. Vials, Biters, Volatiles, and this Day Hunter can't talk-!"
"Are you sure about that?"
Crane said that right into the mic. Loud and clear. With his hoarse, monstrous voice.
There was a loud thud on the other end. The wise-ass guy had backed away from the mic and, in his moment of shock, had gotten his legs around his own chair's legs and tripped—his yell of "Holy shit!" bursting out of the earpiece.
Good, Crane thought to himself.
"W-What? Jack, was that you?"
"No, it's the stupid zombie talking to you."
"Ge-ge-ge-what! " That completely took the guy's tongue. Crane could hear the panicked mutters as if this Bones person was trying to speak. "...Holy shit. Holy shit! H-How? "
The Freakazoid tossed the earpiece back to Jack in a fit and went back to his corner to mope. He wasn't in any mood to continue talking.
"Told ya," Jack said proudly into the earpiece.
"W-Wha...b-but-but-"
"Yes, Bones. It's a lot to digest." She glanced back at Crane. "If an infected can regain back his humanity, then there is something up with this virus. Maybe it's the key to reversing it."
"Um...give - just give me five minutes."
"I'll give you one."
"What?! But, but, you don't just shake it off like that!"
"So? We've gotten used to everything else back home."
"Geez, man… Ok, ok. Thinking cap on. Um, m-maybe the virus has mutated to the point of...reforming brain cells. B-But even then, it wouldn't guarantee any sense of personality back. It's not like those soaps with comas and brain healing power! Unless he created his own ego."
"So the virus repairs the host's mind? Here I thought it was because my punches knocked some sense into him."
"Same," Freakazoid absently grimaced. The healing one sounded too far-fetched to him.
"This changes everything! Forget about the samples. You need to bring him here! Run all the tests on him." There was a sudden pause. "Oh my gaaawk," the young lad grumbled loudly through hands over his mouth. "That is the stupidest idea I could ever say in my entire life."
"Actually, it might be your most brilliant one yet." She then stopped her chirpiness, already sensing the disapproval inside the room. "But...I don't think he'll like that."
How true that was to Crane as he averted his eyes away and shrunk in his spot. Maybe there was some truth in the woman 'reading' into him. His body language spoke more volume than a face twisted and contorted by the virus.
Tests. Which meant being a lab rat. Kyle could only imagine being strapped down, treated like an animal and put through all sorts of pain.
Maybe he should let it happen. It was a fitting punishment for the likes of him, he thought. If only he could stop feeling...afraid.
He didn't notice the brunette seeing that in him—a normal, 'human' reaction. It actually scratched at her empathy. And that was rather strange—the idea of pity for the dead was natural, the idea to put an infected back down out of mercy was fair and just. They were gone in the head. This time, the idea of pity for a sentient, non-violent infected was different and a little difficult. Across from her was a 'person' who had crossed the river and come back with his humanity. But she had to question herself: did she have the right to treat him like the Biters?
Because right in the room, he looked like a pitiful cat having escaped from the rain. And she was a dog person herself.
"Oh, c'mon. He has that level of self-conscience? Couldn't you, I dunno, lie to him-"
"He can hear you, Bones." Jack pointed and out came a long-winded frustrated groan on the other end. "I'm not gonna force him to the Outskirts."
That surprised Freakazoid. Or was she trying to con him? Make him think the conversation was going one way when she meant another.
The voice on the other end yielded. He didn't like it, from the sound of his sigh. But for some odd reason, he decided not to overstep. "Fine. Fine… Yeah. I'd be a hypocrite if we started poking needles into someone like him. And I know better... Like those mad scientist movies."
Crane furrowed his brow. Strange of a stranger to be that accepting.
"We're all desperate, Bones," Jack said understandably. "Only natural."
"Yeah, and we're getting real close too," he heaved a deep sigh. "Sorry. To him, I mean... Forget what I said."
"And the Ravs will shoot him on sight if I do bring him over."
And Crane furrowed his brow even more. All the more reason not to go to this group of hers.
"Right. Good point... He's still a special case. Never heard of an infected becoming sane again-"
"I'm not the only one." Jack wheeled over to Freakazoid, almost out of a jump. "...But she's dead."
That was good to hear. She needed one voice in her head, not a million. "He said he's not the first."
"Wait. There's more?!" Bones shrieked.
"Was," Jack corrected him, hearing a sigh of relief from the other end. "But that means it's not a one-time case. Maybe that rumor we heard isn't as far-fetched as we thought."
"Um...yeah, that's another good point… So...what should we do?"
In the end, the brunette could only come to one conclusion. A conclusion Crane already knew she would make without hesitation or pity.
He clutched his fists tighter and prepared for the worst to come. Just get over with it.
"I'll look for another Candidate. If I found him, I can find another. Get those blood samples to you."
But the woman surprised him yet again.
It was a suggestion the Day Hunter never expected to hear from...frankly, her. In fact, it was almost too good to be true. By now, Kyle should have been gagged, tied up, and taken to this Ravs base. Instead, he was being given his space—a special case.
Seriously, wasn't she making a big deal about his condition being important and the entirety of Harran and Scanderoon needed a cure?
"Yeah." Her companion had that small hint of disappointment in his voice, but he didn't disagree with her proposition. "Yeah. I guess so. Same plan as usual."
"Same plan. Asem needs to hear this anyway," she repeated with her cheery tone back into full swing. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it? If she had heard you yapping at me to return home, she'd send the calvary in."
"Uhhh...yeah. About that?"
"What?"
"Asem already sent Ender and Riza over to the Coast."
The day just seemed to be adding new things the ex-kickboxer never asked for. Her entire body struggled—her venting sealed tight from exploding but manifested through her arms wanting to throttle something. Because that was a sentence Jack didn't want to hear. At all.
"But of course, she did. Of course!"
"Hey, you went off the comms."
How different the mood changed around Kyle. The atmosphere in the bedroom changed to something akin of having coworkers when outside was death and destruction. Office 'humor'. It simply broke down the mold.
"I turned off the comms because you are all worrywarts!"
"Look. They should be there by tomorrow-"
"Call them and send them home."
"I can't. It's Asem's decision. She's not gonna listen to you either."
"She's gonna have to. The Coast is crawling with infected. And they can't get here safely without a boat-"
"Actually, they're gonna take the Tunnels."
"Oh, wonderful!" Jack uttered. "Send them back!"
"I don't like this any more than you do, Jack. But you know how those two work. And it's Ender. He knows how to avoid the infected."
"It's not just this outbreak, Bones. It's GRE." She heaved a sigh. "Today wasn't my first run-in with them... Yesterday, me and that girl ran into two of them... Bones, they're rounding up any survivor they can grab and bringing them to this Checkpoint. Infected or not."
The air took a turn—thick and heavy. Even for Crane, it was serious.
Things had escalated for this city, but to what level? Already, he was suspicious about GRE being in Scanderoon and now, more so with that new piece of information.
What were their plans that they were willing to take infected pedestrians? That worried him.
"Shit." The pause from the woman's companion showed he too was digesting the severity of the situation. "You guys alright?"
"We're fine," she assured. "That's why I don't want you sending any droppers here."
"Yeah but-"
"No buts. Ravens stay low and quiet. That's how you guys operate. Not putting yourselves out in the open-"
"Jack."
Jack had been pacing about in the small room, almost completely forgetting that she was in it with a Hunter. But the stern woman's voice over the comms stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Hello to you too, Asem," she greeted with a chirpy tone. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to hear that 'Hunter' talk. And about Scanderoon's situation."
Jack heard the Freakazoid groan with a mumble, "More of you?". But she ignored him.
"Ah-ha! That makes two people who heard him," she victoriously boasted. "I am not crazy."
"I have never once questioned your judgement, Jack."
"Good to hear that, love. Now call off your fleet."
"After everything you've told us, I'm afraid you'll need all the help you can get."
At the very least, Crane could understand the structure behind this group. The other woman on the line held great sway over the brunette and loudmouth while they held high praise over her—the leader no doubt. This group had a system to follow.
One the brawler wasn't fully on board with it.
"I do not want a runner on my watch. We agreed that this assignment is mine alone."
"I did agree. But you ended up in Scanderoon. With GRE. Whatever they are doing, they are taking action in both cities now."
"Either they're going rogue after their whole disbandment-"
"Or the authorities have sent them to clean up their mess," their leader finished the sentence. The same kind of thinking Crane had. It did seem like the news about GRE had spread around.
But he had an unsettling feeling for some reason.
"Wait, it's been months!"
Crane's eyes flashed wide at what the radio guy said. Months? How many months were they talking about? Nobody answered that for him.
"Why would the Ministry send them in again after this outbreak has been going on for so long? That's bringing out more red flags there," the young man pried out of confusion. "Why care about it now?"
"Don't think it's that easy, Bones," the woman in red added. "Besides Harran and Scanderoon, three other towns were hit."
Asem gave a heavy sigh. "Five locations in total... It's spreading," she pointed.
Five? Crane sunk back in his corner, slowly absorbing the new scale of the disaster.
How did things get this bad...
"The Ministry of Defense is desperate. But they haven't decided to eradicate us yet."
"Because it would look bad on them for dropping a bomb on us like they nearly did to Harran? " Bones timidly suggested.
"Because there is something they need in both cities. And they are sending GRE to find it."
"The research."
It came out of Crane bluntly. He had been too fixated on h the conversation, that he hadn't realized he thought that out or that he balled up his claws displeasingly.
He underestimated the Ministry's impatience. The one bargaining chip he had been betting on to keep Harran from being turned to smithereens—had it outlived its use? They wanted Dr. Zere's research and now they were sending in GRE to find it on foot, even after Crane had threatened that one politician from the Ministry of Defense that the research would stay in Harran.
He never imagined that this was how they would take to the next level. He thought they had more time.
"What did you say?"
Crane's body twitched when he saw the woman glance back at him, the earpiece off her ear and her brow knitted.
"...Nothing," he lied.
It worried Kyle that the lady took longer to let it pass. Did he screw it up somehow?
"Jack," the woman named Asem uttered, distracting Jack back to the comms. "I said they could be looking for something crucial."
"Oh. I didn't mean you. I meant-" She stopped herself. It wasn't going to help her case. "Nevermind."
"The fact remains. They're willing to take any resort for whatever they're looking for. And it's only a matter of time."
"Until the virus reaches the Captial. You sure know how to make a girl feel pressured on stage," Jack sang sarcastically, but with annoyance in her tone.
"Which is why we need to contact the Tower again. Their cure might just be the only answer we have."
"Just how much-" Crane stopped himself, spotting the woman glancing over her shoulder. "Ahem," he pretended to clear his voice.
Her hidden gaze behind the shades bore deep into him, eyeing for another hint, but gradually, she turned back on the call. "Alright. So go to Harran, find the Tower. Get the blood samples and find the cure. Simple."
"No. Your priority right now is to stay in Scanderoon."
"I'm sorry?" Her frown squeezed even thinner. "I can still run the test in Harran."
"Yes. If you haven't crashed into the Coastline. With GRE running in both cities, it'd be too dangerous for you to traverse alone. You and your secret weapon are far too important." Jack knew that all too well, prompting her to gaze down at the armband, hiding that little secret underneath it. "They can't know anything."
"That isn't going to stop me."
"It's an order, Jack. You left the Outskirts without a Lifeline because I believed you would be fine. But everything's changed. So I'm sending Ender and Riza."
Jack was about to protest.
"To aid you. That's it. They get in, they get out. They won't get involved with Bones' project."
"I assume that's the tradeoff?"
"It's the only tradeoff," their boss stated rigidly.
"You make this so bloody impossible," Jack grumbled. "Fine. But the first sign of trouble they get into, I'm sending them back."
"Not until you find someone who can be your Lifeline."
"Which is probably gonna be never."
"Then you three are staying in Scanderoon." Final word. There was nothing more Jack could say against that. "And because we know how anxious you get about family, I'm sending a scout group to the Tower."
"Anxious? Me? Pft. You're overthinking things again," Jack tried to deflect. "My cousin's fine. Everyone at the Tower is fine. Tell her, Bones. They have their own hero over there. This...what's his name..." She snapped her fingers to remember. "This Crane bloke."
Crane, himself, widened his eyes.
This got a lot deeper than he had liked. And awkward. The whole shebang. The brunette's group even knew about him! The irony drilled right through Crane's pathetic self like a backstab. A hero—he was none of that, just a fraud and a freak. Things would spell out worse if the Ravs found out who their so-called candidate was.
He peered at the curtain-closed balcony door behind him—just a gap open. If he could creep out now, he could escape without being noticed.
"Um…" the young lad hung worriedly on the line. "That's what they told me."
"When was this?" the leader asked.
"Three months ago?"
Shit! Three months?! Crane bit on his lower lip. Was that how long he was out?
"And when was the last time we heard from them?"
Bones had no choice but to answer. "...A month after Jack's incident."
That bomb got the woman fidgety in her step. Quiet, even. The same could be said for Crane.
The fact that a second group was trying to establish contact with the Tower irked him, but that worry swelled up once he realized how long that disconnection between them had been. Even the woman's posture reflected that same anguish he had. She raised a fist, shaking it to hit something, but the strength all fizzled out, and she ended with a light tap at a wall.
From everything he has gathered so far, something must have happened over at the Outskirts. Enough that they lost word with the Tower.
He wanted to buy the woman's false sense of assurance from earlier. That everyone in the Tower was fine.
They had to be.
If it wasn't for the fact that it's been months... What has the Tower been doing without him till now?
"Talo will be the lead on this one."
"Talo," Jack repeated with a change in her body language. "Your second-in-command. You're sure that's a good idea?"
"I wouldn't have chosen him if I didn't think he could handle it. He'll find them," Asem pointed. "For now, focus on those blood samples and your life. Everything else is secondary."
And as quick as ever, Jack kicked away her worry. "You know it's not in my nature to turn a blind eye," she droned.
"I know. We'll keep you in the loop," Asem replied. "Besides, you already have your hands full."
Jack took a while to click. "Whoa, wait a minute." She jabbed a thumb at the Day Hunter. "It's already bad enough I'm hearing him talk, and you want me to stick around? With Freakazoid here?"
"Hey, I don't like this either," Freakazoid complained.
"I want to know exactly how advanced this 'sentient' Hunter is. And I imagine he's not going to be as open to us as he has been to you."
"Of course. Took a lot of convincing not to kill me."
"So that...that hickey... It was a trick," Kyle added. He even struggled to find the right word.
The expression she gave to Crane said it all: "well, duh." And her rolling eyes at his naivety boiled him a little to prompt a groan.
This woman...really played him for a fool!
"You're giving him a chance," her leader continued. "And he's shown to take it. That tells us there's a lot more we don't know about this infection. And...this is to confirm a notion of mine."
"Sounds like you have an idea what he is. Care to share?"
"Nothing tangible yet. You might call me crazy," the leader droned dryly, a drawback to Jack's earlier conundrum. "We'll give him his space. You observe him. See how far he'll go."
"As in the killing part or the 'sentience' part?"
"Hey," the Hunter whined.
He had some self-control! And that thought already made him question himself on the spot.
"That's on you. You decide if he's a threat or not."
It was an agreement the brawler clearly was open to, with a light "hm" out of her mouth. Damn this woman and her whole group. What space? She was going to murder him on the off-chance he'd attack her, Crane thought angrily.
"Who knows. Maybe he can prove to be a great help to us."
"He won't be replacing me if he does, will he?"
"You want me to? Because I can." Again, Freakazoid's taunt was ignored.
"No one can replace you, Jack," her boss reassured her with a tiny, almost inaudible laugh. "Be careful out there."
"Always will."
End of the conversation. It left Jack in a quiet fit, with a bitter taste in her mouth. Now was the waiting game—something she didn't like in her style. But sometimes, patience was a virtue, and work would make a good distraction.
However, Freakazoid didn't like the idea of patience. Waiting meant people were dying.
Crane laid down the points in his head. It's been months. The Tower was quiet. But they wouldn't be so open to another group, even one so far away from the Slums...unless there was a reason.
Trust was so fragile in these dark times. Nonetheless, the entire conversation over the comms was natural banter. These outsiders knew the Tower like they were next-door neighbors. Was this connection before Kyle dropped down into Harran? He'd have to ask Brecken for the answer.
Which was never. not in this state of his. Regardless, something has happened. Something big that this mysterious group had to reconnect with the Tower—anyone else would believe a faction gone radio silence in communication was a dead one.
There was enough reason for Crane to go back. Enough to stop being scared of his problems and fear.
"And where do you think you're going?"
He was about to take the balcony route when that sly voice stopped him. She wheeled around brazenly to catch him in the act.
One other problem he didn't want following like his shadow.
"...It's none of your business," he deflected.
"It is when you're a talking infected. I got my orders."
Orders. He could tell she wouldn't bend over. The more he listened to her, the more provoked he felt—more so than that chatterbox on the line. She was one of those kinds of people. The smug, proud kind who wouldn't shut up. Even if one were to tell her to, she would keep yapping.
Funny, she reminded him of Rahim.
"So keep an eye on me," he said rhetorically.
"Rhetorically speaking."
Crane grimaced at the smartass comeback.
"Good luck with that." He'd be gone and far away from her-
"You know you're being tracked, right?"
He groaned. Loud. Angry. He hadn't forgotten about that. It didn't help how confident the red-jacketed lady behind him was—there was nowhere to hide from the Ravs' eyes.
This was dangerous to Crane.
"You can keep avoiding me, mate. But we'll be crossing each other's paths anyway." More like she was going to tail after him regardless. "You saw how well our chase went."
"Oh, you were really catching up," he mocked. The number of amateur mistakes she made would put pro runners to shame. "I'm surprised you haven't turned up dead yet."
"What can I say. I'm gifted."
"Sure," he grumbled. Never had he met a woman with an ego quite like hers. "Don't you have a job to do? Whatever this little project of yours is."
"Yes. That includes you. Orders are orders," she droned. It was so uncannily easy for her to brush off the fact that she was talking to a monster. Or maybe she had gotten used to her new reality far too well.
"Orders. Right. Basically, you're someone's lapdog."
"I'd like to call myself the underdog. Has a nice ring to it."
"Yeah. This isn't working for me. So I'm gonna go." He pointed to the balcony.
"Excuse me. A minute ago, you begged for help. And you're in luck. Mad Jack, retrieval specialist. At your service." It was a grand presentation she set up, arms waved outward, and a courteous bow. "Courtesy of the Ravs."
Kyle could see it all right; she loved the spotlight.
"I think I have better luck dealing with a Demolisher than you guys. I'll let him stampede me too."
"Harsh," the brunette blurted. "At least I'm offering."
"Right. Offering. I know well enough that getting help means being asked for something in return."
"Tough crowd," she hummed. "Had trust issues in the past?"
A lot. Enough that he could write a book. But Crane wasn't going to give her the liberty to satisfy her curiosity with any answer.
"Wow. How shy can you get?" the woman uttered. "If I had known you'd be this hung over with a little smack on the lips, I wouldn't have done it."
"I am not-! Nobody in their right mind bites someone with the Harran virus!"
"Neuro-linguistic programming. Honestly, I didn't think it would work on you."
"Mind control. Great. I feel so much better."
"Hm," she laughed softly. "Not brainwashing. Just the power of suggestion." Holy shit, this woman wanted the last word. It was like bashing his head into a brick wall, and it still wouldn't crumple. "Helps break down the barriers. Keep us on the same page."
"You mean making it easier for yourself."
"If it stops you from biting my face off, then it works, Shy Guy."
"Sure. Look. I can see you're very busy. So how about we forget we ever met, ok?"
"Really?"
Yeah, Crane could see how dumb that request was. He had particularly laid bare to her.
"Alright. What exactly is wrong? You wanted help. Now you don't want it."
"No offense, lady. It's…" Kyle fell short; the whole problem he had was the lady. But that sounded rather offensive in his head. "The whole infected deal. Just because I'm lucid now doesn't mean I can't hurt you."
"That's a lie if I ever heard one. Just say you have a problem with me, Freakazoid."
Dayum. Wasn't going to be easy with this one.
"Listen, As much as this has been...insightful," Crane wasn't too sure if that was the best word to choose, but a nod from the lady seemed to say that it was. "You can't help me."
"That's a big assumption. You haven't even given me a try."
"No, you literally can't. You're stuck here." A sting to his plan, but it wasn't something uncommon. Crane had long learned to bite his tongue and take what he could get. "... And I can't stay in this city."
Again, he reminded himself. Already, a day and a half. He had taken lives, by choice or not. He also had the grimmest thought that the feral beast in him had done more than bring the fall of Scanderoon.
"You're heading to Harran then?"
Crane flinched. And that response was a yes to her.
"That's the next best place for someone like you to go… And from the looks of it, say you came from there."
He was right on the money that there was more to this woman in red, and it actually frightened him. She wasn't the frail, terrified survivor he thought she would be. She was bad news. The probing for the right answers, the 'power of suggestion'—her tongue was sharp and silver. One wrong move, and Crane would be hanging off her arm.
"Were you someone from the Slums?" the lady pushed another button yet again.
If she was going to follow him, then she'd be led to the Tower. The Ravs were still an absolute mystery to Crane and most of all, a talkative lady like her could spill the beans for him.
He could see it, all right. Her yelling, "Hey, guys. Your so-called hero, Crane has turned into a freak of nature!"
He definitely had to cut ties with her somehow. Whatever that connection between the two factions was, he didn't have any reason to learn about it. And no one from the Tower could know what happened to him.
He had to lie.
"I… I don't know. I don't remember."
"You don't remember or you don't want to remember?"
The latter but he stuck to his act. "I don't know who I am. My name. Everything." That was the best lie he could come up with.
"Selective amnesia. That would be a problem for someone back from the dead."
"Yeah. It's already hard enough figuring...this out."
"And you think you'll find your answers in Harran."
"Yes. Maybe." The first answer came across as a demand to stop her from probing Kyle for more info. The second, he wasn't positive that Harran would have those answers. "And I don't need a babysitter."
There had been floral curtains covering the balcony's door, creating a sense of dimness in the room. In his frustration, Crane yanked one sheet open-
"Grmph!" The sunburn got to him immediately, and he scrambled back into the shadows. "Hmmmph!"
Damn sunlight! How long before the day was over?
Watching the Day Hunter cower down was a little sad to Jack—some sunlight and his mutated skin sizzled. The smell of burning flesh prompted her hand to cover her nose for a second. How on Earth did he manage to live this long?
"All the roads are blocked and we're surrounded by water. Only way to get to Harran from Scanderoon is by boat."
"I'll swim all the way if I have to," Crane scoffed.
"I'm pretty sure infected can drown," she pointed, receiving a grumpy groan from him. "And there's GRE. If they find out you're a sentient zombie, they're gonna wanna catch you, mate."
"More reason to bash them if they try. I'm prepared." Freakazoid then pulled on the sheet again, off its rings. He had a little bit of satisfaction in his eyes—good, these were blackout sheets.
"You won't be able to survive on your lonesome."
"Hah!" The scary laugh out of the Day Hunter's voice box did give Jack a little jump. She had heard Biters and Virals say some gibberish words, but that was another thing entirely. "I've been on my own before. I know what I'm doing."
"Yeah, but are you going to get another chance at being heard?"
"Why do you care?" he snapped, turning back to her.
"About you? I don't. I have every right to kill you if you decide to eat me, Freakazoid. But our goals are the same. That 'asking for help' for 'something in return'? You're not wrong."
Awfully accepting of her to say that, but it was also egregious all the same.
"As it stands, you need us to solve this mystery of yours. And we need you to help us solve it."
"Oh really?" He was now up close to her again, standing menacingly that he had to give her guts for not faltering from him. There was a spiteful venom in his telepathic words. "So it's either your group or GRE."
"We're a better option than them."
"Better. Your boss sends you out on a suicide mission with no backup. I've met enough people at the top of the chain to know where this is going."
"Sharp ears," Jack jousted. "You have a problem with authority?"
"When they're being a pain in my ass."
"You're quick to judge, mate. We're not like GRE."
"Yeah. Your people made it very clear they want to open me up."
"Now you're exaggerating-"
"How am I exaggerating?!" he hollered, now using his real voice and not his inner voice.
It was thunderous. Crane watched the brunette go on the defense most subtly as she tightened her grip on her crowbar. Her reaction was warranted, no matter how calm she stayed. Just like the young runner and his companion that night.
But he couldn't hold it back. Kyle couldn't keep being afraid he would scare her away.
He had to tell her: whatever crusade she was on was a fool's errand!
"I don't know a damn thing about you. Or this faction of yours. And you go around boasting that you're searching for a cure?"
"Because someone has to do it. You heard Asem. We're against the clock-"
"That's exactly the point! We're already past the deadline. Look at me!" His voice was shaking loudly as he presented himself to her—this horrid, mutated body. "This is what a cure did to me! Who's to say this lead of yours isn't gonna wind up another dead-end?!"
The woman hunched up an eyebrow. It was clear that she had never idea what he was talking about. But she remained firm in place.
"Is this what you are looking for? Because here you go! There is no cure! So why don't you keep your heroics to yourself and stop dragging others in? Because you're not helping anyone!"
Stop following a dream. Stop becoming like him. Those were all the things he wanted to tell her. She'd only end up like him!
"I'm not gonna make that same mistake again."
The brunette was quiet, taking his outburst as he breathed heavily. Let her soak it all in.
"...So you're gonna sulk and do nothing?" she mocked softly. "Not even help us a little?"
Crane scoffed. Why was this woman so stubborn?! "Help you? Why should I trust you?!" All of his anger, his vent from way back had finally spewed out. Laid waste to her.
"The feeling's mutual."
The statement was said in such an unfazed demeanor, it surprised Crane. And the next one took it even further.
"Because I don't know who you were. Or what you're gonna become from here on out."
That did him in. The calm, collected response left him with a burning distaste in his mouth.
What he was going to become…
He balled up his claws. Not hands, claws. The thought had never crossed his mind until she said it right to his face—he had just regained his humanity so what was the next step? What else could he turn into? Be like the Mother, a deluded infected with a twisted agenda to kill off everyone in Harran?
Or something far worse?
He swallowed. Finally, Crane realized there was no salvation for him. No hopes of returning back to being a human.
Why did he think this brunette, or any other person, could help a monster like him? He shouldn't have even tried.
"I should have never saved you."
It came out of him before he knew it. Crane was tired of himself, of everything and of this woman being an asshole to him. But once he realized his mistake, the damage seemed to have been done. Her expression, even if hidden by her shades, told him the comment hit her in a way. That pinched at his guilt.
Then she smirked.
Just like that.
"Oh, you're gonna be an interesting character."
"What?"
She gave a nod of the head, like a sailor's farewell. "Alright. Thanks for your leads, mate," she spoke, looking very relaxed in the room. "Be seeing you around."
"Wha..." Did this woman hear anything from him?! "Are you out of your damn mind?! What leads?!"
Crane couldn't stay in control, both thought and voice spurred out as one. He literally wanted to shake her.
"What is your fucking problem?!" he yelled.
"My problem?" she hummed. Daringly, she closed the space between them, enjoying the Day Hunter's hissy fit. "Why don't you go and find out?"
It was a taunt. A lure. A mystery box waiting to be opened up but she had every bit of confidence that he would uncover the secrets.
He didn't want to. He didn't want to care about her anymore. Let her go find those vials and get herself killed.
Crane was done.
The only concern he should have was getting back to Harran.
"Forget this... I'm leaving."
"Alright," she casually said.
That stopped him. No, no! It's her damn persuasion! "And you're not going to follow me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Good!"
"Glad we've come to an agreement, Freakazoid." Her beam stayed annoyingly strong it ridiculed him.
"Christ's sake!" It was insufferable! She really wanted to have the last statement! Without a second thought or a remark, he was out the window, the black-out curtain being his shield. Across the roofs and eventually, he was gone like the wind.
Jack was alone. No more voice in her head—only the welcoming yet stiff silence in the room.
It was an interesting event, she admitted to herself. Not quite what she had expected from start to end but she would be lying to herself if she didn't find it a little intriguing compared to everything else.
And yet...it was strange.
"Five times. Five times and you haven't dropped dead from my secret weapon." Jack walked over to the open window, casually adjusting her sleeve again.
She really did agree with Bones and Asem: there was something strange about this one infected. But unlike the Grad's anticipation over a new yet frightening discovery and their boss's inquisitive interest, Jack had a foreboding feeling in her stomach.
In her entire time going through an outbreak, the 'change' she witnessed—a difference between the other infected she has killed and Freakazoid—was something completely new to her.
That 'hickey' Freakazoid was fussing about... He should have died.
But he didn't. Again.
"Just what are you?"
A/N: 17/11/19 Both revamped and reedited this chapter. This chapter was unexpected in its revamping. One being it was more dialogue and less action, something I thought readers might not be fond of. So don't hesitate to call out if you think it's too much blabbering. But it is a lot better on the interactions between Jack and Crane (in more ways than one ahem).
*I've also put in the disclaimer. Sometimes actions in a lot of fiction, whether original or fan, can be taken out of context and I felt that a disclaimer was in order. Quite frankly, I really don't see such a shipping between...well, these two. More like whether or not they'll likely kill each other. If it was... maybe fifteen years, then maybe. Just a maybe. And that's if these two would live that long enough to hold a relationship. Regardless, there will not be any sort of protagonist shipping in the Descent. Plus, Jack's an asshole.
Moreover, imo, a shipping always depends on two characters' interactions and development between them. And it's something I rarely do at all - mostly because it's either "nah, wouldn't work" in my head or that I've seen readers dislike oc shipping. A lot. So it really takes a lot of convincing to me if something works between two characters. The problem regardless is some people can take way too far so I'm just putting this disclaimer down, in case.
I also would like to inform you all, I have a tumblr blog for this fanfic. Because AO3 and FFN doesn't really have a way to notify which chapter has been revamp unless it's new, I am using this blog as the notification. Any major updates, I will announce it over in the blog only. Please follow there for any of those chapter announcements and even little things I have in plan for it. Link: dlthedescent tumblr (because FFN doesn't like links)
I also want to thank Cian from the Dying Light fan discord group for helping me come up with a name for a character: Masha the Cannon, a Russian kickboxer mentioned in Chapter One. Thank you very much for the names!
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this revamped chapter. Please review and feel free to give constructive criticism.
PS. I find it amusing Jack called Crane fat. Ahaha.
15/8/20 - Reedited for mistakes and errors.
7/2/21 - Added new lines, fixed mistakes and edited parts according to new timestamp from pilot.
9/2/21 - Minor edits and fixes.
13/2/21 - Added new lines.
19/2/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments.
29/3/23 - Changed title and went over chapter with edits, fixes and adjustments. Changed some motion parts in the hotel scene
3/1/23 - Final fixes and changes, I hope