Chapter Summary
- TEAM UP
It's bad. Everything about this is bad... I can't do this on my own. If I want to get out of this shithole, then I have to work with her... This is crazy! But she's my only choice. - Kyle
NINE: DAWN BREAKS
The rich smell of iron was everywhere—almost hard to breathe. Everything was a little high in Crane's head. Like he had been drugged. He could feel himself nearly off the rails, the scent of blood enriching his desire to let himself go, have more of this power. Something was yelling at him to do it—to come after her. Kill her. And it wasn't from inside his skull.
But something somehow grounded him down. Something foul, citrusy, and horrible hit his tastebuds and stopped him from pushing his teeth further down into whatever soft thing he chowed on.
"Neuro-linguistic programming. Honestly, I didn't think it would work on an infected."
It didn't help that he got played like that. Again. Not by the broken bait bags around him. But by the damn crafty, silver-tongued lady. Because right now, inside the arena, he had no choice but to follow her lead.
"Not brainwashing. Just the power of suggestion. Helps break down the barriers. Keep us on the same page."
He couldn't tell if the lady was daft, insane, or incredibly clever. Maybe insanely clever. Using codes on an infected like that? Everyone would think she had lost her marbles.
But she was daring; he'd give her that. To think of a plan under tension and near death.
"If it stops you from biting my face off, then it works, Shy Guy."
Really, though, this woman was betting too much hope that he wouldn't kill her. It took every shred of willpower to aim for her shoulder and not her neck. Moreover, she wouldn't let him go after their tumble. Underneath him, he felt a hand grip his worn-down clothing tight—another thing that stopped him from backing off.
They had to stay in character, after all.
"God, this reeks," he heard someone speak out. From behind. Leaving from the gate he was shoved out. "This is gonna take weeks."
Not good. His time was running out. In a matter of minutes, they'd be zapping him like cattle and herding him to one of those cages again. The other side in him told him to escape. Slingshot his way up and over the fence; that would be the best option.
His eyes peered at the gate the brunette came through.
"Front entrance's guarded. You won't be able to make it alive if you leave there."
More problems. He expected much.
Bzzzt! The sparks of the man-made electric prods could be heard closing behind him. Crane flinched, but the gloved hand didn't let go, even tighter than before.
Stay in character.
"Only way out is through the gate you came from. They brought you in here somehow."
He wasn't sure. He was out cold throughout his short captivity.
"Alright, you creepy bastard. Enough playing with your food," warned his captor.
But Crane wouldn't back off; his ear kept down as close as possible while he kept a careful eye on the surrounding four men.
They couldn't see the lady talk.
"You can't do this alone, and neither can I. You have two options: you can be their pet for the rest of your life. Or follow my lead," she swallowed between gasps. "I'm your only chance, Freakazoid. I know what you're capable of."
Crane glanced at the corner of his eye, at the woman. And this time, he found himself locked in her stern and yet frightened gaze.
They were both in a life-and-death situation. They could both wind up dead.
"Trust me."
Trust.
It was a dangerous thing to Crane; trust was a double-edged sword. His time in Harran—including his past work—reflected the poor choices he made just because 'he trusted someone' under tense circumstances. That was one of several reasons why he worked alone.
But just as she saw something in him, Kyle saw something in her too. And she was right.
It wasn't like the old ways anymore, not in this form. He could keep trying, just as he did to the trappers, but the fact still remained: he would always be hunted regardless. He would always be seen as a threat.
But the crazy woman in red didn't.
Nobody was wise enough to notice a small, subtle nod from the 'Night Stalker', except the 'dead' kickboxer. Nothing to lose.
"Hey!" the thug hollered.
"What are you doing? Stop playing with that thing."
"Just hurry up and move him! I wanna beat that stupid woman to a bloody pulp."
Now the only problem was getting out of the arena alive!
"Guy to your left," she whispered into Freakazoid's ear. "Busted up his shoulder earlier."
Crane peered back briefly, picking up as much information as possible. There was one man with his arm in a sling and a dark glare fixated on Jack's body.
"She's already dead, man."
"I don't care!" the man in the sling barked. "I'm gonna do every single horrible thing to her damn corpse. Now get off, you stupid freak-"
Without warning, the 'Night Stalker' unhinged off the woman and turned sharply around. In a split second, the man froze up at the sudden turn of events.
"SRRAAAARHHH!" the strange Volatile freak roared, the strong burst like a gust of wind. Tendrils fired right out of his claws and onto the loudmouth—the bloodthirsty anger washed by horror. He screamed but it was hopeless. Crane gave one good tug and hurled him right off his feet and into the cleanup crew.
"Shit-!" A nearby prisoner raised his weapon—the modified pole with the voltage circuiting at the other end—ready to tame the monster with a couple of zaps. But all of a sudden, the taser weapon couldn't move forward. It got pulled away.
His eyes widened even more at the sight of the 'dead' woman, rising up from the ground. But it was no undead like the infected; the 'dead' woman was very much alive. With a wide, toothy smile, she immediately seized the long pole, avoiding the taser end. With a sharp kick to the stomach, the thug was thrown off, and Jack was now dangerous with the device in hand.
But she cared about getting some air into her lungs first.
"Gack! Gah!" Jack coughed and proceeded to massage her throat. If those teeth had sunk any deeper or aimed a little higher, she'd really be a goner. "And here, I thought you'd really kill me!"
"Blegh! Phootey!" Crane spat out the disgusting, odd, iron taste from his mouth. "Why the hell do you taste terrible?!"
"Oh! I'm sorry I'm not to your liking. Want me to put salt and pepper for the next snack?!" she snapped, imitating someone sprinkling a shaker onto her wrist.
"I know! Stop rubbing it in." He already felt bad enough.
Crane soon found himself staring eye-to-eye with the last captor. He thought he would be tased quickly, but the man stood there, mouth dropped and eyes wide. A shaking finger pointed at Crane.
"D-Did, did that thing talk?" the trapper hollered.
Crane narrowed his eyes. What?
"No. You must be hearing things," Jack sang sarcastically. And instantly, she jabbed her taser prob at the bloke's chest. The very same captor that probed Crane with a shock got a taste of his own medicine; his muscles locked up by the high voltage.
What was disappointing to Jack was how easy the weapon broke. As the captor's body slumped down to the floor, his paralyzed arms pulled off the other end of the spear-like cattle prod. It didn't matter.
Throw everything they have at the mad fighter and the loose monster.
The crowd above them rattled louder, some out of shock, some out of "what in the world is going on?!". The Director was already gone from the scene, leaving nobody to calm the panicked audience. The only people trying to assess the problem were the many guards gathering up at the seats.
Armed.
Actually, about time for them to hightail out of here. Jack changed her mind on the spot.
"Lady! C'mon!"
Freakazoid was already at the infected's gate on the other end—their one way out of the arena. Neither he nor Jack noticed something shifting in the darkness.
"Let some of the infected out!" someone yelled.
BAM!
"Shit!" Crane jumped back at the sudden shaking of the door, spying an arm thrusting out through the gaps. Had he stood there a second later, a Biter could have grabbed him.
A few seconds delay was enough to make him and the brunette like sitting ducks—people beyond the 'infected fighter' gate planned to throw more competitors into the ring on them. The infected, however, wailed in agony and aggravation from the purple light beaming on their back.
"What are you waiting for?! Shoot them!"
It didn't help the situation that the two fighters would both be shot down at any minute. Jack saw two, three, four gunners but none hadn't yet lifted their weapons. The chaos in the audience was all too distracting to them.
After all, they had to shoot through the fence-
Fence?
"Fence!"
Crane wasn't too sure why the brunette suddenly hollered out that word. But Jack had already pillaged down on one corpse and picked up a grappling hook and a crowbar. Might even go so far as to say that those were her stuff.
"The fence! Pull it!" she yelled.
It clicked to Crane immediately, looking up. The previous fights Jack had endured and lived reflected on the arena's walls: battered and dented from the Brawler's frantic misses and the Demolisher's thundering rams. Jack threw the hook onto one side of a wired fence and Freakazoid followed, his tendrils seizing the other side. Just as the armed men on the other side fired-
Keee-keee-KLANK!
It took just one pull for everything to crash down. The enclosure plummeted forth, together with a portion of the audience and the gunmen falling in. Like lemmings over a small five-inch cliff.
Ok, but was this a bad idea? Crane thought. They were adding more numbers to this pit.
Some panicked; they were in the same space as the Night Stalker. Some were too focused on trying to get their footing, disgusted at the fact they had rolled around on the aromatic, blood-stained floor.
One guard cursed and raised his weapon at Freakazoid-
"Heads up!"
Splosh! The blotchy bag exploded on impact.
"Gaack!" It came out of the left field—the red rancid fluid blinding one of the fallen spectators and some bits slipping into his mouth. Some questions in a few minds overtook the more important ones—when did the woman sneak a meat bag into the fight?
Two, actually. One busted open by Freakazoid during their acting, drenching her jacket. Regardless, what could one bag do to them?
Other than it did make Kyle a little hazy. He had to snap himself out again.
"Lady!" Crane hollered out of frustration as he hurried after her. They were outnumbered inside the arena. If she didn't come up with another idea out of thin air, he was going to resort to his own planning. It didn't help that the smell was gripping back at his reins again—not completely, but the feeling was present.
But he could see the lunatic already onto the next idea, jamming the crowbar into the gaps at the infected's gate. When he thought it couldn't get any more chaotic, Jack pushed it up a knot.
CLANK! Down went the door, right off its hinges.
"Chow time!" Jack uttered madly.
"GAARGH!"
Swooshing through were two Virals, diving right into the red-covered crowd. They were famished, the night and the scent of blood bringing out their wild, savage side. But Jack didn't stick around to watch the carnage. Once the gate was opened, she quickly darted inside, ignoring the wails and gunshots behind her.
So did Crane. He wasn't sticking around either. He swooshed back into the holding area, biting down on the pain for a quick bath of UV light. It didn't take long to see two men blocking their way—the ones responsible for moving the Viral cages to the gate. Jack had already tackled one down. Crane tackled the other.
"C'mon," he hollered, vocally and out of habit. But again, Jack didn't jump at the sense of freedom. She went to the first thing—the plastic box Crane had seen before. In the tense seconds, the brunette gathered her gear and put it back on. A little shuffling and reclaiming the spilt cassette player back into the bag. "Before they change their mind and focus on us - H-Hey!"
The woman was off. No word. Gone down the hall. Maybe she was already on the search for their exit. With no choice given, Crane chased after her, passing large cages packed with 'undead' contestants racking their claws through the gaps.
That search was immediately halted, though. After all, they were still inside the belly of the iron beast.
"There she is!" Popped around the corner was a new face. And the nuzzle of a pistol.
BAM! BAM!
"Shit!" Jack quickly dove behind cover. Sparks flashed from the bullets ricocheting against steel.
What a bunch of cheaters and their firearms! Didn't they have fistfights in prison, or were they just too jittery to try one for the first time?
Guns were nothing but a nuisance to Jack.
At the corner of her eyes, something flashed past her. Jack heard the yelling, "It's coming!". Followed by the many gunshots.
The diversion by Freakazoid worked for her. Jack ducked out of her hiding spot and charged forth, spying one distracted gunner. It was a one-sided victory: just a thrust of a combat knife he had pulled out and snatched away from Jack, into his throat. She gave it a twist for good measure. The woman then dove onto her next prey.
She had counted six from her next vantage point. However, after her second dead man, the four vanished. How fast was this Day Hunter? Jack caught a glimpse of him bolting across the walls like a rabid ape. She even could have sworn he fashioned out a blade and cut off someone's head. Then Freakazoid was gone like a flash.
"Where is he?!"
"It's a monster! Monster-Gargh!"
Barely a second later, and suddenly, one of the thugs collapsed down. A hand to the wide slice on his throat. Jack blinked her eyes in surprise—what killed him? A ghost?!
Despite the numbers looking like they were diminishing, more thugs joined the ranks. Took aim and fired.
BAM! BAM!
Jack dove into cover again. For every three men they've taken down, they were only able to make it to one room. This was taking too long-
"Here."
That was Freakazoid's voice, close by. All of a sudden, a stolen pistol fell right into her hands.
She 'rookiely' stood up from her spot and looked around. What—where's Freakazoid?
"What are you doing?!" he yelped.
She felt hands pull at her shoulders; pulling her back down to her hiding place.
Wait, how, what? She searched again, but nobody stood close to her.
It was like a reenactment of the Invisible Man Jack read before.
"This is getting out of hand."
"How…" Jack pulled her shades down the bridge of her nose. She desperately tried to look for Freakazoid as she waved a hand around to feel for him. "Where-?"
"Hey. I'm right in front of you." If this is another joke from the crazy brunette, Crane was walking out of the ship.
"Just what are you really? A bloody chameleon?"
Chameleon?
That prompted Kyle to look at his claws.
What he saw did make him reel back. Then he flipped his palms around. He questioned his own eyes, but the notion in him eventually settled down, just as he had eventually accepted his new fate as a monster.
He was straight-out invisible. Completely see-through. Was that why those gunmen couldn't see him? None of the infected or Specials he encountered had such an ability. However, it did explain why that one trapper in the alleyway didn't remotely see him when he had been in the open.
It was a scary thought.
Then again, anything useful for him was better than nothing.
"Hahaha," he laughed softly. "Ok. This makes things interesting."
"I don't know whether to be amused or downright terrified of you now," Jack exclaimed abruptly.
He jerked back at the remark. Neither offended nor hurt. But still-
BAM!
A stray bullet hit a wooden crate nearby; the spraying sprinters ushered Jack to shield herself. The same went for Freakazoid, the fright shaking his invisibility right off of him. The sudden appearance of a monster, like a snap of a finger, was enough to give Jack a jump for her money. But she steeled her legs down.
"Dammit," Crane cursed, seeing more trigger-happy goons. Scurrying like rats in the walls. During his 'ghostly' fight with the previous mob, he had stolen a pistol.
There wasn't any point in him using a firearm. He could easily deal more damage with his fists over shooting. So he had tossed it right into Jack's hands—she needed anything to have a better chance of getting out alive.
"We can't stay any longer."
"The more the merrier, I say."
"Seriously?" he groaned. "Look. I'll distract them. You shoot them."
"I don't do guns."
Crane's eyes widened. "...What?"
Ka-click!
Jack glanced back, stern eyes peeking over her shades, as she unclipped the magazine and tossed the gun away. "I. Don't. Do. Guns."
It left Kyle confused and shocked. As Jack hopped out of her hiding place, all he could do—with his hands shaking at the obscurity—was shout, "What do you mean you don't do guns?!" He quickly joined her on the enclosed battlefield. "Everyone here uses guns!"
It was true. The four additional men bolting into the compacted rooms of the ship were armed. That was their downfall—the amount of time needed to hold a firearm and point at the madwoman, within closed spaces? She particularly danced about and disarmed them with hand-to-hand combat.
Besides, she wasn't entirely their main focus. The moment the prisoners saw the sight of the terrifying Night Stalker, freed from its shackles, they changed targets. With their little minds racing over the decision of which was the biggest threat they had to deal with first, it was too late. Both two wildcards took them down easily.
"All men, get me that damn woman! Dead! And make sure she doesn't get our cache!" a voice boomed over the speakers. A voice Crane didn't recognize, only pinpointing the local accent in it.
"Of course, he would do that," the brunette murmured.
"That ain't good," Crane pointed. "We gotta get outta here-" And again, she was off. "Are you listening to me?!"
"Where is it?"
"What?" he breathed. Did she lose something? "Whatever it is, you can find a replacement outside-"
"I'm not leaving without that Antizin!" she snapped.
Antizin?
Wait. Had the symptoms already started for her?
He didn't get the chance to ask that question. Behind a wall walked by two orange skeletons, arms raised.
The rifles pointed out from around the corner.
"Watch out!"
Jack was in a blind spot, so she couldn't see the jump. Seeing the charging Freakazoid still unnerved her so all she could do was let him grab her, and both rolled behind cover.
Tik-tik-tik-tik!
A close call indeed. She couldn't truly underestimate this infected's skills. Not only could he recall his capabilities from his human time, but there was another whole different level he had above any normal infected.
It actually made her feel lacking. Jack should up her game to keep up with him.
"Your symptoms."
She climbed up on her feet but Freakazoid stopped her. The grip was almost too tight for the brunette's liking.
Jack tried to free herself, her mind locked on the danger. They were surrounded by men who wanted blood, and now the monster sprouted nonsense!
"When did you start feeling your symptoms?!" He forced her back down.
"What?" Jack uttered. What was he blabbering on about? Their attention right now should be on any wandering gunmen coming into her peripheral and the both of them finding the suppressor drug.
But the ship was too dangerous. Crane couldn't have her stay, especially if she needed Antizin. He had to get her out to safety now. Then he could worry about getting her medicine.
"Look. We'll get you Antizin," Crane persuaded, enough to make the ex-kickboxer frown irritatedly. "Anywhere else but here-"
"It's not for me."
That stopped Crane, his shock-filled eyes snapped onto her. What she just said made zero sense to him.
What did she mean it wasn't for her? People who were bitten needed Antizin. He. Bit. Her. Had she forgotten about that fact?
"I don't need Antizin," Jack reinforced her notion.
"You don't-" He was lost with words. "You were bitten!"
"Yes. So have a lot of people." She yanked her hand free and glanced out of her hiding spot, counting the number of men she could see fill up the cargo hold.
"Hang on…" He finally connected the dots. "That's the reason you came here?!"
She simply shrugged. "I'm taking back what the Junction needs. Those vials never belonged to these blokes in the first place."
"And what? You came here alone, thinking you could get them?"
"Wasn't a sound plan to begin with," the woman chided, a quick whisk of her cheeky smile. Then the seriousness painted over it. "But someone had to do it."
"They're criminals. You're risking everyone's lives by pissing these people off," Crane uttered.
"I'm getting that Antizin one way or another."
No, what was the point of saying that? This woman was… He had to verbally say it out. "You're insane-"
"And what about you?" A fine time to strike an argument—with bullets firing, infected out of their cages, and the ship going down. But hey! This damn Hunter and his need to preserve their lives were getting on her nerves. "Hm? Why does a bloodthirsty Hunter like you have a heart?"
"What do you-?"
"Why did you save those two runners?"
At a moment like this, Crane should have shoved aside the questions. But she got him. How did she know about that night?
The shock on his face confirmed her notion. "You saved them from those thugs that night. And you did more than just protection work."
Referring to her phone being stolen, the stuff Crane searched for and gathered. And yet she pushed. She knew what buttons to press—her damn power of suggestion.
"You can pretend all you want, Freakazoid. But you can't turn away when someone needs help. Even as an infected, you go around helping people."
The silence from him was the truth, no matter how many times he tried to avert his gaze. Because she was right, he did help people. He wanted to help everyone. He wanted to correct the mistakes he's done.
But he wanted her to stop prying. Stop taunting that old fire he had in him with a poker. Stop reasoning with him. He would make the same mistakes again.
And when there wasn't any budging, it frustrated her even more. This entire time, from chasing him across the roofs to the hotel and onboard the cargo ship, she had learned so much from Freakazoid. Stop being a joke to her; she knew enough to know she wasn't dealing with just a random zombie. Freakazoid was a bloody freak with the same morals as any human.
So she pushed.
"Fine. Maybe it is pointless looking for a cure," Jack pointed, a verbal reminder of what he had done to her—the bite he gave her, her fate sealed by the Harran virus thanks to him. "But everyone else is still trying."
Crane glanced down at the woman. And this time, he found himself locked in her stern gaze behind her sports sunglasses.
"How about you? Are you done trying?"
Trying?
He had been done with it. He had tried, again and again, looking for the answers this woman was searching for. And trying got Crane nowhere. But...surprisingly, this annoying persistence from her was catching on to him.
He wanted to try.
Jack frowned even more. Freakazoid was stiff on the spot in deep thought—all too struck with his damn doubt. No going through with him, so she rose up on her feet. She had to find those Antizin-
A claw on her shoulder stopped her from leaving. A glance back and she spotted something new in those silver-blue eyes of his.
Freakazoid's eyes said it all. Alright, they said silently.
"What do you need?" he asked. This time with his creepy voice.
Jack grinned in response, without malice.
"For starters," she chided, swinging her choice of weapon up in her hand. "What say we give these blokes a good reckoning?"
It was almost like a cheesy scene he had seen once: the brave hero ready to jump out of his cover. And yet it worked so well with her and their situations that that cheesiness was gone.
"Gladly," Crane answered, bearing his teeth.
"What are you all stalling for?!" the Director yelled at the gathering of men.
The whole top was now a ground for the hunted and the abandoned. The bellow of the beast was being eaten from the inside, with each group of men putting blockage on every floor entrance, only to be torn down. His lovely attraction was falling apart around him. The radio chatter had gone silent, and the single-minded backstage crew were shouting that Alexander had ditched the place.
This arena was a source of profit for them, but the Director was quick to remind himself that it was only one source. There was no point in saving a sinking ship.
And the Director was no captain. But he couldn't let it go if he knew that woman was still alive.
"Go and kill that woman!" he demanded. "I'm not paying you to be cowards!"
"It doesn't mean shit if we all die here!" Such tone from a spineless man! Some of his crew were calling it quits now rather than to wait it out and be killed.
Another prisoner appeared, scurrying through the exit everyone was barricading. Screaming, "Monster! Monster!"
"Someone shut him up! He'll attract those freaks here!" the Director demanded. Of course, there were monsters onboard. Thanks to Mad Jack running into the opponent's room and opening those cages-!
His eyes widened once he caught a glimpse down the hall outside the barricade. It wasn't just the familiar red jacket; she came bolting after something else sprinted faster than the ex-kickboxer.
"There she is!"
"Shoot her!"
"What the fuck," one of them murmured, his gun drooping low.
"Close the door!" the Director bawled loudly. "What are you doing?! That thing is coming!"
Before the bullets even flew, the Night Stalker ducked right through the door. Right before the Director's very eyes. Horror took over him as he watched—nobody paid any attention to the beast in their midst.
"It's in!"
Everyone at the front barely registered the Director's warning. Confused and focused on the lady while one or two convicts turned back to question him: what thing?
Before the Director's eyes, he watched men be disarmed from their weapons. Be picked up and tossed away. Be killed with a twist of the neck by the monster and a stab in the back by the crazed woman. His one defense to buy him time and sneak out during the panic was down in a flash.
He was done! He had to get to the bow. They should be finished with the loading-
A whistling sound came from his right as he tried to escape through the back.
Shing-thud!
Pain struck as his left hand suddenly went to the wall. Then pain struck again, more piercing than the first time, when he barely took a step. He tried to get his hand free, to see what was the problem-
A knife pinned right through his palm and into the crates.
Finally came the screams.
"Ahh! AHHHHHHH!"
The knife went in deep. The more he desperately tried to tug it out, the more agony sprouted from the wound. What made the situation worse was the hounding shadow of the ex-kickboxer.
"You bitch!" he cursed. "I'll kill you! I'll kill-gargh!"
Out of the blues, that hounding shadow shifted from behind Jack and dove onto the Director. He could feel the sheer power of the beast just by having his collar, his other hand unable to push away what was a scaly, strong forearm.
"Looks like that invisibility of yours doesn't work on everyone," Jack said calmly.
Invisibility? Who was she talking to?
"...Must have been a fluke."
"Ahh!" The Director glanced around quickly. Where did that voice come from?! "What-?!"
"A fluke." Mad Jack clearly ignored the injured man's bafflement. She was talking directly to the Night Stalker, all too calm that it hadn't gone after her. Even stranger was that infected staring back at his hands for a second. "What about the last two guys?"
The Night Stalker grumbled, even giving a pout. "I don't know. I still don't know what the fuck I am now."
"I don't understand! T-This isn't real!" During the banter, he quickly tried to take the knife out of his hand. No good. It was in too deep. The more he listened, the more he felt himself losing sanity. "Someone! Help-!"
All of a sudden, the freak jumped on him again—that scaly arm down on his trachea. Haunting blue eyes stayed on him, altogether seizing him from squirming.
"Hate to break it to you, Director. But your situation is looking very bleak right now," Jack pointed.
How? How did this woman tame their fresh capture?!
"Y-You think you got me?" he taunted, tossing out a laugh. "Just because you got yourself a pet! Hah! It won't protect you from Alexander."
The brunette tilted her head to the right; the threat from him came out flat to her. But Aslan gleamed. He could see how her downfall would happen.
"He'll have your head a plate!" he continued boosting.
A scoff came from the Night Stalker. "...That knife's not clean."
"Oh no. Think I used it on a few Biters earlier," Jack replied to Freakazoid.
The fact slowly dawned on the Director. Slowly, the terror sank deeper inside of him. Infested through. The Director was sick to the gut, wide eyes pleading that it was some joke from the batty woman.
She shrugged her shoulders, grinning as wide as a cat. "Nobody has time to wipe their blade clean. We're in the middle of an outbreak."
"Let me go!" Antizin! He had to get his hands on Antizin. "C-Call your pet off!"
Jack tilted her head to the side, her grin looking just a tab longer. "Hmm. I don't think he likes being called 'pet'."
"I hate it," Freakazoid concurred.
"See? Really demoralizing."
How could he reason with her?! Even a satisfied huff from the monster made it all the more unbelievable to Aslan.
"If you really want him off, you gotta be on his good side first."
His good side?! She had literally lost her marbles! But if it'd get the knife out of him, then alright!
"Fine! W-What do you want?!"
Purposefully, she let the seconds pass by. She 'thought' about her answer. "Well. I did want my winnings."
"S-Sure! You can have it!" the Director pleaded. "Just let me go! I can't feel my hand!"
"Hm-hm," Jack laughed softly. "I said I 'did' want my winnings." She relished the fact that the Director's face was drained of color. "Now I want every crate of Antizin on this ship."
"What-?!" That would ruin him! Alexander would come after him if the Director were to give all of it away. And to this crazy bitc-!
"You heard the lady." The choke on his neck tightened, and his face even whitened ghastly. So many questions ran through Aslan's mind, but all cohesive thoughts fumbled apart from the animalistic glare.
This was a monster. A monster!
"I-It's in the bow! T-They're loading them up to be taken out of here!"
The monster didn't unhinge itself off him. Those terrifying eyes literally speared into him, as if searching for any lie. Any excuse for the monster to rip the Director into pieces. With a shove, finally, some breathing space, Freakazoid stepped back from the cowering human.
"Let's hurry."
"Right behind you, mate."
"H-Hey!" Both faces turned to the Director, back to tugging at the knife. "Aren't you going to take this out?!" The puzzled expression on the ex-kickboxer's face dug another inch of fear into him. "I told you where the Antizin is!"
Jack turned back to the Night Stalker. "Did I say that?"
"Didn't hear anything like that."
"Must be my imagination."
"W-What-what?" Aslan was hyperventilating. His vision was blurring-
No! No! He had to think!
"I-I'll give you anything!" It was a sorry sight, but the Director didn't care. The stages of grief were displayed to Jack and her zombie friend like a scene from the theatre. But not a shred of sympathy came from the brunette's expression. "Name your price! W-We can forget everything that happened today! Bygones be bygones!"
The woman was silent. Every now and then, the zombie gave a passing glance to her and then to the director, waiting for her call.
"T-The offer still stands, you know! I can still make you big! I-I can hear it now! The Wild Dog, back again! Y-You need me!"
Aslan couldn't die here. Not by the virus, not by anything in the world!
"I-I need to disinfect it! I can't be infected! I just can't! I-I-" No matter how hard the Director tried to control himself—to stop giving that woman satisfaction over his impending doom—it was all crumbling down. "I'm important! This is supposed to be my show! My spotlight! I can't die here!"
The trot towards him was slow, soles beating against the metal floor. A predator worse than the Night Stalker—a force he truly underestimated since the name, Mad Jack the Wild Dog, was first spoken within these walls.
Jack kneeled down before him. Good! Please! She wasn't so heartless-!
But instead, she picked up a hatchet that was dropped aside. A weapon he could have used if he had the gall to gain his freedom...
"I'm sure those were the exact words your contestants said before they died. We're just stepping stones, after all."
He wanted to curse—anger mixing with fear and agony. How dare she have the smarts to say that back at him!
And curse out words he did. But Jack ignored him. Freakazoid had already hurried off to look for the bow. The Director was left alone with a mixture of emotions spiraling out of his mouth. Nobody could hear him.
Nobody had any sort of remorse for a man who enjoyed tossing others into pits of death for entertainment. Jack's full attention was on looking for those crates of Antizin.
It was the last stretch, and Jack could feel it in her bones. Her smile widened after a turn around the corner, where at the end was possibly the location of that important cargo.
"Close it! Close it!" begged a prisoner. Another quickly hurried to push the door shut-
Thud! Metal hit metal. The axe had been thrown at the right, precise time, halting the door from fully closing. The short moment of opportunity was enough for Freazkoid, particularly diving under with his big build and, in a split second, pushing the door back open. Then he was gone again, invisible in a flash.
Jack followed into the bow, hearing the doorman tumble back from Freakazoid's invisible impact. He couldn't endure the kinetic energy delivered, all while watching his guard friend suddenly shoved away by nothing. Then the woman in red sped. Her hands slapped his gun away from under his nose. One palm to the jawline forced him down and a kick to his back made him stay down.
Jack went back to her frantic search while the second guard, screaming for help, met his end without seeing who his assailer was.
"Antizin, Antizin, Antizin-" Her eyes gleamed at the familiar medical logo on six boxes. "Antizin!"
The bow door had been mechanically opened up, revealing the open, starry sky. A small tender was ready to depart, all loaded with the grey crates. Wrapped up like a nicely-done present with a bow on top.
The last thing they needed to do was get rid of some pesky bystanders heading to the bow.
"There she is!" Up rose a pistol. "Wha-?!"
And gone was the prisoner's pistol, yanked from his hand. He found himself being pulled forward as well as trying to comprehend what seized his weapons.
"Infected!" one of his crewmates yelled and fired at something. Where?
"Shit!" a voice, inhuman and distorted, resounded from his right as something 'shimmered' into his peripheral vision. That something suddenly seized the other man's firearm, a talon wrapped around his wrist, and threw him onto the stunned prisoner—a move a judo master would do.
"Monster! Monster!"
"RUN!"
"AHHHH!"
The thugs didn't care about the Antizin. Or the small boat. They ran as far as their legs could take them. Some dove into the sea out of desperation.
"I'm starting to think those aren't flukes anymore," Jack droned.
The poking hit at the nerve, prompting Crane to grind his teeth. As cool as this new ability was with the satisfaction of pounding the chumps—the thugs unable to see him a mile away—it was concerning how just a few could see him before he'd jump in. In his pounces, he eventually understood it wasn't full-on invisibility. Even the infected saw through the façade. Somehow.
It was as if a handful of people that did get deceived by the trick. Jack was one of them!
"I seriously can't get the hang of this..." he grumbled. He found it stupider when he said that aloud and vocal. Why should he get used to this?
"Count your stars. You have me to bail you out."
Crane narrowed his eyes at her. Frowned even. Claws on hips.
"Oh really? I think it's been the other way around," he rebuked distastefully, and that didn't wipe the smirk off her face.
The commotion stampeding above them, however, brought their attention to the fact that trouble was brewing onboard. Crane glanced up, counting three, four, five-
He lost count of the orange skeletons, massed together into a blob.
"We should go."
"Way ahead of you," she said, darting to the control panels for the undocking.
While she worked on readying the boat with the final touches, Crane hopped over to the door and picked up the axe. Locking the metal door up with it as an extra measure should be enough to stall for time before the mob would swarm into the bow.
The sound of splashes prompted Crane to turn back. Jack was already on the boat. One pull, two pulls, and the engine roared. He jumped in before she could utter at Freakazoid to come on board. No more time to waste, and he didn't need to be asked. Jack quickly steered the boat away from the deserting ship.
"Stop them!" yelled the familiar voice of Celso. The fuming rage in his tone was music to Jack's ears.
The bullets of an AK-47 from a pack of gunmen fired blindly.
"Get down!" Crane pushed Jack's head down, caring less about her yelling "Hey!" at him.
Holy shit, the amount of fire they gave to get back their loot! Or even to sink the boat down—if they weren't keeping it, no one was going to. Thankfully, with Jack's driving, they were all misses. Most of them.
He felt one graze his back. If he had to say one good thing about this new body, it was that he had hardened skin to pillow down the shots.
The prisoners yelled out their curses and shook their fists, only for their anger to die quickly when other pressing matters were next on their minds. It was every man for themselves now. None of the men had any notion to chase after the thief and the monster, who ultimately destroyed their fighting ring.
So the noises eventually dulled out the further the duo's boat went. Jack glanced back one more time at the fiery destruction on the boat.
And she couldn't believe it.
They got out. With Antizin.
And she burst out laughing.
"AH HA HA HA! We did it! We got Antizin!" she hollered, ecstatic. "AH HA HA HA!"
The fanatic energy and overwhelming ecstasy were something that surprised Crane. It took him aback. They could have literally died! They almost got out by the skin of their teeth! And yet that outburst out of the crazy brunette…
It strangely gave him assurance. He had nothing to worry about. They had just survived, given what a bunch of thugs deserved, and to top it all off, they had stolen a large stash of Antizin.
A feat he couldn't imagine succeeding in. Not on his own.
He couldn't have done it without Jack.
He, a monster, couldn't help but chuckle.
"That's the end of it."
BAM!
Jack gave one more kick to the boat's engine, but it didn't spring back to life. The hole puncturing through the tank was enough evidence that it couldn't go on. "And here I thought I could use it to get to Harran."
It took a great, long mile across the waters for the duo until they both believed they weren't followed—then an extra ten minutes sailing. Next came the strange gurgling sound from the back. That forced Jack to quickly stir the boat to the shoreline for them to hear the engine's final choke.
Crane had quietly taken himself to perch on the red-tiled rooftop of a nearby restaurant to keep an eye out while the brunette tended to the busted engine. Once she was done fiddling with it, she took out her earpiece and made a call.
"Breaker, breaker. This is Jack."
"Jack?" The young female voice echoed on the other end. "Where have you been?" Then there was a cough, as if the runner was clearing her throat. "You should have called us!" she snapped.
"Had a long, busy night," Jack pointed quite literally. "But I got Antizin. Ready for you runners to pick up." She scanned her surroundings. "I think this is a resort?"
"Wait," Siv uttered softly, and then the volume changed for the next two sentences. "Hold on! You found Antizin?!"
"Six crates worth. That should last a while."
Laughter out of disbelief and joy then burst from the earpiece. "I-I don't believe it! H-How?"
"Well." Crane didn't peek back; he could already feel the ex-kickboxer's eyes glancing at him. "I got help."
"Help?"
"A new face was just passing by the neighborhood. Couldn't have done it without him."
That was a rather nice compliment coming from her, and also weird to hear it from a person like her. He thought she'd talk shit about him. Or take all the praise to herself.
So, of course, Crane got a little suspicious of her.
"That's good. We need all the help we can get."
"Eeeeh, he's pretty much a shy guy. Don't think he'll be walking by the Junction any time soon."
Ok, now that was exaggerating. In more ways than one.
"I'll wake B-Team up and send them over. It's the Karst Spring resort, right?"
Jack searched for a name, anything. "I think it's the Blueside Hotel. Stayed for a few nights here."
"Got it. And Jack? Thank you. Really, I mean it. And that guy. Can you tell him that too?"
"I think he already knows."
After the end of the call, Jack joined him up on his perch; sitting right next to Beastly with her feet swaying over the edge. Her perky grin was, however, partly a means of deception. All the aches in her body told her she couldn't keep ignoring them.
"That was an eventful night," Jack broke the silence. "Could have handled it better. But we got out of there alive."
"...I still can't believe it," Freakazoid confessed.
"Running away from gunmen and zombies at all sides? Sounds normal to me."
"No. Well, yeah... I mean getting Antizin." He peered back at the stack on the boat. Six small crates. That was the most he'd ever gotten. "I thought we'd only get a few bottles."
"Really?" Jack droned. "I thought the exact same thing." She hunched forward, glancing at the horizon—a mix of red-violet, blue, and a seeping orange. "I mean it, mate. I wouldn't have gotten them without your help."
Crane almost wanted to laugh—really? A woman crazy enough to take on convicts? But the calmness in her face stopped him. She meant every word and every form of gratitude.
"Just who are you?"
She turned back with her Cheshire cat smile. "...Well. I'm your neighborhood specialist. I do what I can, when I can for people. Under contract with the Ravs. Got to keep a good reputation for them."
"Specialist. Right. And this group just helps people?" he scoffed. "No way are you that charitable."
"And what about you?" she asked. "You sound like you had some history, 'helping people'."
He grimaced silently, but Jack didn't push.
"You said it yourself, Freakazoid. You don't remember much about yourself. But you sure have a bloody conscience for an infected."
His conscience. Crane glanced at his claws. He should have been lost in his head. And she wasn't wrong—he was still quick and nimble, a part of him knowing full well what his morals were. This virus inside him gave him a boost in surviving better, under whatever-right conditions.
Virus. That word made him think before he turned to the woman.
There were many questions about her, with one standing at the top.
"You said you were looking into this virus. Why?"
It was there that the woman in the red jacket gave him a hard look. As if she were deciding whether to reveal a secret or not.
Then she simply gave a hmph of a laugh. "Yeah. Why not? Who's gonna believe anything from an zombie if I tell you?"
"Hey, seriously?"
"Alright, then." She was about to jump off and leave. "I'll talk about it another time. When you're not so sensitive-"
"No. Garh," he groaned. Man, did she love to toy with him. "You really believe there's something new with this outbreak?"
She was quiet for a minute. Just to be sure. But the expression Crane gave told her he was dead set to listen, with a newfound sense of confidence and, more importantly, hope.
"...Alright. For starters, there's been new types appearing in the last month. You're one example."
"Geez, I'm flattered. What don't I know?"
"I didn't mean it like that, mate. It's just odd to see brand new infected in a matter of weeks. Almost like their mutations' evolving or something." Now that got his attention. And Jack continued. "A Grad student I know thinks the normal zombie population got into something recent that kickstarted this new strain."
Hm, ok. There was some ground to that logic. After all, as she said, Crane himself was one example.
"And it's not just the walkers. It's us infected survivors too."
Crane glanced back at the mention of the word: survivor. "What do you mean?"
Jack lifted a leg up and rested her chin on the knee. "Well...I'm not obligated to speak on behalf of my fellow comrades. Too personal for some of them, and...you'd think I'm mad as a hatter."
Aren't you already? But Crane zipped his charred lips. "Ok. What can you tell me?"
She pondered. A moment he never expected out of her, he couldn't help but feel suspicious about it, especially when she was still smiling. The question written on her face was how delicate she could explain, but what it really was to Crane: how crazy was her answer going to be?
"I guess I can talk about myself. Yeah. Why not?" Jack chided. "I'm already infected."
"Of course, you are. I'm the one who bit you."
One eyebrow rose up behind Jack's shades. "Sure. And several others. You're not that special, Freakazoid."
What was this nonchalant attitude of hers?! "Doesn't matter how many times you were bitten. You got infected because of me."
"You?"
It was a clear disconnection that even Crane couldn't figure out what. The longer it took, the more it baffled him. It was obvious he caused her demise! Why couldn't she take that as the truth?
The brunette lowered her shades down the bridge of her nose, giving a sterner and harder look at him. She was at a loss and yet the expression on Freakazoid's face was genuine.
It didn't help that when it looked like it finally dawned on her—the discovery that the Day Hunter was the culprit behind her infection—she gave a strange grin. She wasn't furious like Crane had expected.
"Wait..." The chuckle may have been soft but he heard it crystal clear. He watched as the amusement swelled up in the strange woman. "Have you been after me this whole time...because you thought you gave me the virus?"
What kind of question was that? "Yeah."
Her brow rose up as high as they could go.
Then the heavy-accented laughter burst out.
Crane couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was like a punch to his face. This entire time, he had been genuinely worried about this woman, straight up guilty for what he had done. And now she was laughing?!
"W-What's so funny?" he barked. "I bit you!"
Jack collected herself, understanding the frustration her new zombie companion had been dealing with. "I hate to break it to you, Beastly. Or maybe it's a good thing for you."
Good thing? Why?!
She turned to him; she could stay quiet to keep the Hunter guessing but she wasn't that evil. "I've been infected way before you bit me. Don't go taking the credit for someone else's work."
His icy-blue eyes widened at the surprising news. Like a sliver of guilt flew off his shoulders. Relief could be seen in him so easily that it made Jack wonder how long he had been haunted by the thought he had ended her via the Harran virus. But there was something lingering—a small need for urgency. After all, the afterthought was still there: her life was still on the line.
"So...you...you were already bitten. Before me."
"Of course. My first bite wound was months ago."
Then those same eyes narrowed tightly at her. "Ok. If this is another bullshit joke-"
"Now when have I ever bullshitted anyone?" Then she suddenly thought about her own question. "Don't answer that."
"Wait… Then…" It just didn't click for Crane. "Then you have to be on Antizin-"
She hunched her eyebrows. "There was a time when we stopped getting Antizin in Harran. Those airdrops just didn't come. I haven't touched that stuff since I got bitten."
Freakazoid's face said it all—another hint for her. He knew about a time period when, one day, the Ministry of Defense ceased sending in the precious suppressor to the city. No more, they decided that day. Thus, that sealed the fate of Harran.
Or perhaps he knew about the duration a bitten victim has before they are turned into something like himself.
The incredulity was so thick that he would need a slap to the face to snap out. However, the ex-kickboxer pulled another stunt instead.
"And I haven't turned yet." Jack took the armband off her left upper arm. And right on the skin, clear as day was the evidence.
She had bite wounds. Some fresh, some few days old. But there was one very obvious mark right in the middle—a very old and healed bite wound, almost gone from her skin.
Veins surrounding it had been blackened—a sign of the infection taking over its host. But that sign had also faded away.
Like it had been naturally stopped by something.
"What the hell," was all Crane could say as he grasped her arm, just to make sure it wasn't an illusion to him. Jack found it amusing—how easy it was to read the doubt off his face.
Yet Jack stood by her words. "I'm telling the truth."
Crane was lost for words. Telepathically and through his mouth. But he managed somehow.
"H-How?" he started. "H-How are you able to stay human?"
He wanted to know. Desperately. Hopingly.
"I don't know," she answered in an anticlimax way. "Maybe I'm not entirely human."
The monster next to her narrowed his eyes at her. What?
"From the inside, at least. This virus did something kinda...peculiar to me."
Crane arched his head back with a raised eyebrow. What did any of this mean? Moreover, he didn't like that playful yet careful tone again.
"Peculiar how?"
"Made my body poisonous," Jack said with a straight face. "Anytime a zombie's gotten a bite off me or I bite them, they wound up dead."
What?
No, she really believed that, he thought to himself.
"We did some tests back home before that same Grad realized what was up with me."
And Crane rolled his eyes. This arrogant, over-the-top attitude. And this story was unbelievable, too. She was trying to sell him that? Poison? And he got his hopes up too high, only to be disappointed by a madwoman's ramblings.
There was only so much he could take in. And this wasn't one of those moments.
"Ok. Now you're being so full of yourself."
Yet...something was off. Her grin was uncannily wider than before. "You said I tasted terrible, right?"
Again, he grimaced. The idea of her getting devoured by him left a bitter taste in his mouth. His stomach even made flip-flops. "Hey, look. I'm sorry I tried to eat you. I wasn't exactly myself then-"
"That's the oddest part about you, Freakazoid," Jack pointed with a bit of a hum. Then her tone changed to earnestness at the drop of a pin. "You're supposed to be dead."
He gazed at her with a puzzled expression. The word 'dead' hung with a tight, grim proverbial vice. But she really meant it.
"...I don't believe you." It sounded ridiculous once he connected the two dots together. No way-
"I don't expect you to. The Ravs couldn't believe it the first time around. But I wouldn't have been able to survive this long. I could barely survive six rounds of fighting zombies unarmed." Jack raised up her hands, the redness still staining through the new bandages she wore during the boat ride. "'Course, it didn't entirely go to plan."
Crane was still digesting what he had heard.
"So far, you're the weirdest infected out of all the rest," Jack sang, peering back at the strange creature. "You are the only one that has outlived my secret weapon."
"There's no way…" He struggled but couldn't think of a rebuttal. Everything she said sounded like something from a comic book.
"Freakazoid, when we first met, I bit you." He wheeled back, eyes relatively wide at her sober face. "Really hard, might I add. I've forced a couple of walkers to take my blood before you and they all went down."
Yes. He remembered. And still had the bite mark on him. Crane massaged his neck as if the ache had come back.
"It might explain why you're fine right now." Now that was something he couldn't truly believe. She simply shrugged. "Hey. I don't know how this all works either. You've lived twice. And twice, you've stopped being all feral and zombie-like. Something's working."
"Or it could just be a coincidence," he pushed. "Who's to say a third time, this...poison of yours doesn't stop me?"
Wait a minute, Kyle. What are you saying? That meant he might lose it again. And for good.
"Then you might actually drop dead from it the next time. Have you ever heard anyone surviving lightning three times?" Jack countered.
"That's a completely different thing."
"Well, we can always test it out if you lose your marbles again, Freakazoid."
"You-" he held back a groan. "Ok, let's say I believe it. How is it even possible?"
"Honestly, I wish I knew." Another surprise out of this woman. The silence hung tightly, yet she still persisted with her casual personality. "We had a break-in back home. I don't remember what happened, but I got bitten then. Woke up a week later with this."
Oh. Uh. Crane wasn't too sure how to respond to that. In the end, all he could usher was "...Sorry."
"Eh, not a big deal. It's not the first time I've lost track of time." And now he was even more concerned. What exactly did she mean by that? "But hey, I did gain this nice little perk instead." She rose her bite-ridden arm up with a triumphant shake.
"...You really think the virus in you has this kind of effect?"
"It's something I'm looking into," she explained. "Got assigned this little project before I left home. I'm supposed to monitor how this affects those new types. If they survive, I take blood samples from them and jot down the side effects."
He recalled the important note he saw on that phone. "Like me."
Jack nodded. "You surprised me, mate. More than what I bargained for."
"...Why?" he asked.
"Another group we know is working on a cure. In Harran."
Again, the Tower. But Crane forced himself not to ask specific questions on that subject. He had to play it safe. "Ok. What does that have to do with your little project?"
"It's simple, really. We wanna make sure this 'cure' won't fail us."
Crane's mouth dropped agape with his eyebrows knitted tightly. And in fact, he was offended. What was all that running around for, trying to get that research back?! "It's a cure. How can it fail?"
Jack didn't share his skepticism. In fact, she didn't smile. "The Grad student I was talking about? He's afraid that this new strain's adapting too fast for a cure to beat it."
That reply punched him without even knowing it. It was something that had never crossed his mind. But the more he thought about it, the more he had a terrible feeling.
Before all of this, he truly believed the research could solve everything, given that there was enough time and resources. Of course, he didn't have any knowledge of how pathology worked or the whole rundown of how an antivirus was made. That was left to Camden to figure out.
But if the Harran virus could build a resistance against the cure...then, that could certainly spell disaster for everyone.
"So." The brunette's voice snapped him out of his grim thoughts. "I'm collecting all the data he needs. Once we have everything, we can help them out with strengthening the vaccine research."
This other group, Crane instantly took a gander. He was almost hesitant to continue, but he really needed to understand how much she knew. "...This group, it's the one you and that radio-guy were talking about?" He then added a moment of feinting ignorance. "The Tower, right?"
Jack nodded; this time, her fingers tightened together at the mention of the name. Still no news from Asem on that matter.
"What's there to worry about?" he then pushed—spun the question around to gain more information for himself. "A cure's being made... This experiment of yours could be a waste of time."
"It's an idea to look into."
"That might lead to nothing."
"Same goes for that cure the Tower's looking into. We don't know the outcome."
Crane groaned. He was trying to fight a wall—who was also right. He had no idea how far Camden had progressed since he left Harran.
"Ok, how can that secret weapon of yours help?" It was really vague to begin with.
"Well. Think of it this way. How is antivenom made?" She waited, but only received puzzlement and silence. "You have an animal take a snake's venom to create-" She purposely let the word hang long, waiting for him to finish the sentence.
"Antibodies."
Now he was seeing the connection. With a confident nod, Jack continued. "This pet project's all about making immunoglobulin and my body might be the key. That's what Bones thinks, anyway."
A key. That was the thing; both she and this Bones guy didn't sound too certain on their own bullshit. Or at least, Jack was just dressing it all up to make her bullshit sound plausible. Hopeful. And the success was riding on her assignment succeeding. All on her own. The more Crane thought about this, the less he felt optimistic about it. It was a terribly long shot, if anything.
"What? You want to sit around and wait for news to come?" Jack asked. Good point. Even he wanted to find out the results. "The Outskirts have been through this outbreak longer than anyone has in the Old City. No way can we sit this one out."
"This is crazy..."
"Come now. It's just data-collecting. No harm done."
"Except for you. You have a death wish to be doing this," he scoffed, lowering his head. Boy, if he were the normal Crane before, he'd be heading for the hills once he'd listened to this lady's bizarre, loony objection.
"Hey. If this project bears fruit, then it can help everyone. Maybe you too. You're still an oddity in all of this."
"Heh! Do I look like I need help?"
"Well, do you?"
He stopped, his curled-up talons tightening in response. He didn't openly want to admit it—that he himself had a hard time getting around as a sentient infected. His captors treated him like an animal, and everyone feared him, even that poor kid from the night before.
How on earth was he going to last like this...
"How about hiring me?"
Crane glanced at her. That was a mad, bold question. "What?"
"Hire me. Looks like you're struggling on your own," Jack replied cockily and yet sincerely at the same time. "A Rav is supposed to help people."
"Hmph," he chuckled, almost buying this woman's dry sense of humor. So he might as well entertain her a good bit. "...I'm nowhere close to being considered human."
"Really? So chit-chatting with me isn't human? Wow... That's a first."
"And you're deranged to be talking to me, lady."
"Better than nobody, right? And the name is Jack. Call me Jack."
Crane was baffled. There was so much honesty behind this crafty woman that a person wouldn't be remotely sure if she was being sincere or not. "...You're serious."
"I'm always serious. Everyone just assumes I'm not."
"W...Why?" he forced himself to ask, adding one important fact. "I nearly killed you. Twice."
"And here we are. Talking."
"What… How can you trust me that I won't go off the rails again?"
"Trust you with my life?"
That line surprised Kyle. He was almost certain the madwoman would laugh at her own statement. But she didn't.
"I'm the one asking for your help here. Not the other way around. I'm far away from my own people. No one except them knows what I'm doing. No one else can know about this project," she explained firmly. "Now you know about it. That makes you the only one in the world I can trust with this secret."
Now when she put it that way, ok, that was a bit too much for his plate. She was really going to let him be her support? Watch her back without thinking it looked delicious to him? He was close to a sheer drop the last time, and he could easily take her with him in one go. Moreover, this lead of hers could end up being like the 'cure' he sought in the Countryside.
It was one big, crazy burden too.
He was about to say, "Are you sure?" but one look at Jack told him it was pointless.
"So? What say you?" she asked. "There's a catch, of course."
He breathed in and out. Unbelievable, it felt like a fantasy—that this woman was a part of his imagination that his frazzled state of mind had created. And as unbelievable as it sounde, there had to be some catch. As per usual.
"...What's the catch?"
Jack's grin slowly and steadily weakened, just a bit.
"You being my Lifeline."
Crane narrowed his eyes at her. Out of puzzlement. Out of confusion.
"The Ravs have their own rulebook back home," she explained as she leaned forward, arms resting on her thighs. "If you plan on leaving HQ, then you don't go out alone. Someone has to go with you as your partner. They hold your life in their hands... That also includes ending your life if the virus finally wins. Same goes the other way around."
That was a dark and grim answer that Crane didn't expect. But maybe he should have.
"Now...before you ask, yes. I did leave without one. Nobody wants to take it on with a risk-taker like me," Jack explained swiftly. "But...it doesn't mean I shouldn't ask for help now and then. So. I'm asking you."
Geez, lady, he thought to himself. It had to be the heaviest task he was given. And she had the brilliant idea to make a killer machine her Lifeline. People would think she wanted a quicker death.
None of the stuff he did in Harran or at his old job could beat this request. Yes, he had already made a commitment to end her life, but it became a whole different page when he was the one receiving the offer from the very person herself. The weight slammed on him so hard, regardless of her cheeriness.
To her, it was just another job. That was it.
"You've been doing a fine job tagging after me for that one reason. So why not stick to it?" she asked. "Help me find out everything about this variant, including what's happening inside you."
Crane was left stunned. Then he gathered himself. The job he was being offered? It sounded exactly like any other job he's gotten before he was turned. Only that this time...he wasn't alone.
So was he going to throw himself back into the fire once more?
"Sun's up."
The eerily breathtaking orange light bathed the Coast like a wave. The night was over. The terrifying things that preyed on humans rushed back into their dark hidey-holes.
Except Crane.
There had been an awning, but with the angled casting of the rays, he still felt the heat hit his skin. The horrid burning, however, wasn't as bad as before. If anything, it was...bearable. He had a moment of pain in his eyes once the sunlight pierced over the mountains, but his sight quickly adjusted, faster than his first day as a Hunter.
It was as if his body had a bit of resistance to dealing with daylight. Not to a level it was tolerable, but it was something.
He turned back to the woman, Jack. She admired the beautiful scene straight on, shades protecting her eyes while she smirked cheerily. She survived another night, and it was particularly nothing to her.
Overconfident, much. But maybe having her company would be something of a change.
"Alright," Crane gave his answer verbally. His quietly monstrous voice didn't make much of a dent in Jack's overzealousness. But it did to his pride. "I'll accept the offer."
"Heh," she chuckled. "Guess that makes you an honorary member now. Welcome aboard."
"Really? You give membership like that?"
"Unofficially. If you want dental care and five vacation days, you're gonna have to talk to Talo for an interview. Just a handshake and the instigation." Jack hopped right up on her feet, giving herself a stretch that prompted a small pop and a muffled groan. "Alright, Freakazoid. We start at two."
Crane raised an eyebrow at that statement—mainly, the time—but she had already dropped down to the open-air parlor. "Where are you going?"
Now it was Jack's turn to look at him like he had grown an extra head. "To bed. What? You think my service is 24/7? I've been up the whole night and right now, I want sleep. And a bath. And some first aid." She strolled off with her rambling and a bit of a stiffer in her walk. "Maybe some painkillers. Aspirin. Anything for this killer headache."
What an odd person she was. A bit kooky in the head but nothing alarming. A bit too trustworthy, now that Crane noted it himself. But she was a better pick than any other choice he had in the past.
Crane jumped down to the lower floor-
His vision suddenly warped. Everything spun around him with shapes and bright light. He almost lost his footing, having to brace himself down to let the dizzy spell go by. What was that just now?
This was very much different from the previous fits but at the same time, familiar. When did he feel this before? And for a moment, he could have sworn he saw Jack morph and shift into the Mother, her back to him and dressed in red robes.
The dark whispers came back and it wasn't the voice of his other self. Something was wrong-
"Hey. Freakazoid."
Then he snapped. Like he had a wake-up call. His whole world went back to normal and Jack was Jack again, glancing at him with a look of mild concern behind her shades.
"You ok?" she asked.
Ok?
Was he?
No, that wasn't a moment where he was losing his mind. He'd gone through twice. So was that his head playing tricks on him?
He wasn't sure.
In the end, he did what he always did. Give Jack a piece of mind.
"Y-Yeah. I'm alright," he lied. "I'm ok."
END of PROLOGUE ARC: WELCOME TO SCANDEROON
A/N: 3/7/20 Heyo all. And yes. YES. YES, I've finally finished revamping the ninth chapter of Descent, and the last chapter of the first arc. It has been a fun ride revamping these first chapters for this arc. Also, no. That statement doesn't mean I'm ending here even if it sounded like it.
I do want to reinforce one thing to you readers: while I am very grateful by the number of comments, favs and follows for this fic and the tremendous amount of support for a fic I never imagined to put a lot of worldbuilding into, I have noticed some of you being concerned that I may be abandoning this fic but I assure you I have absolutely no intention to drop this fic, especially when I have lots of fun writing this. I want you to take note that I am not the fastest writer, nor am I really the most clever in writing. As an example, this chapter took the longest to work on because two parts had to be revamped severely and a new part had to be added. It takes a lot of my free time to not only work but also plan and brainstorm for a coherent plot. I also do have other fics in the works but again, that does not mean I won't work on this fic again.
I ask if you be patient from here on out however. I have mentioned this at the beginning that I am writing this fic in arcs, the first completed here and also before this fic was uploaded, I had been working on a plot document to work out its elements carefully. I have abandoned fics or went back to revamp an old one because I had always fallen into a problem where I used to write a story without a plan and end up getting writer's block. This document is to help me with that. That said, the next arc(s) will take time for me to plot them out. So again, please be patient. I will do my best to get them up asap.
That said, I do have an idea to keep you guys engaged during dry periods. I have always wanted to write side-quest stories but didn't know how to integrate them into the story. But I now know how by simply making them be their own chapters and in between arcs so not to break the flow but also give you guys something to enjoy. Hopefully, this will be good enough until the next arc is up.
Anyhow, enjoy this chapter! Any update or issues I have, I will post them over at my Descent blog, dlthedescent at tumblr.
Enjoy!
Also, I'd like to give a shout out to one fic I've been enjoying alot, Shadows of a Dying Light by UranicSubseter34! He's an incredible writer, working on a "Monster Crane" story a bit like mine and you will enjoy it as much as I have. Fanfiction Link: s/12780940/1/Shadows-of-a-Dying-Light
7/2/21 - Added new lines, fixed mistakes and edited parts according to new timestamp from pilot.
12/3/21 - Reedited for mistakes and added a small aesthetic change to Crane's design.
24/11/21 - Reedited for minor mistakes.
21/2/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments. Edited some dialogues.
5/4/22 - Minor edits.
7/7/22 - Fixed lines and edited dialogue
19/4/23 - Fixed lines, added some details and edited some dialogue.
4/1/24 - Final fixes and changes, I hope