DYING LIGHT: THE DESCENT
Arc Summary: The Tower had gone too quiet for weeks now. With no response over the radio, an ex-champion kickboxer named Mad Jack decides to drop by the Slums to check on family. Unfortunately for her, she is forced to make a pitstop right into the Coast of Scanderoon, the next-door neighbour to Harran and now overrun with the infected.
If she wants to stay alive in this city, Jack's gonna have to make buddies while 'studying' the infected. But she can't let anyone know the little side project she's been tasked with or the other secrets she has. No one outside the Ravs should know. Not even her cousin.
What's more, something is lurking behind her, following far too close to her shadow...
PROLOGUE ARC: WELCOME TO SCANDEROON
PILOT
"I learned to recognise the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both."
― Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
"First, I'll kill you, bitch."
The corpse, adorned in red robes and golden jewelry, was motionless beside him, its head tossed away like a worthless, small stone, having been pulled right off its neck. Blood spewed onto the cold concrete floor and under his shoes.
In his tired hysteria, the man didn't register the Mother's death. All too fixated on the only goal since entering the Countryside's dam.
He rolled over back to the thin vials of dark blue liquid he had dropped to the floor during his tumble.
The vials were the answer. They had to be!
No, they were the cure! That cult leader lunatic was talking out of her ass. Only one way out? Turn on the nuke and kill off millions to save billions?
She genuinely believed it. Saying it to the outsider, who trekked into their hallowed lands for an answer to the madness, to an outbreak leeching onto the nearby city, like a sane person. As if he would see eye-to-eye with her and activate the fail-safe himself. All because of some bullshit prophecy about a sun god—to free them from their suffering and this infection.
Like hell was he going to do that!
Enough of losing more lives because 'the ends justify the means'. Enough of losing friends around him!
Enough was enough!
Kyle Crane was done with this higher moral shit! He was finished with following orders!
"...And save my friends…"
Get the vials, get out, and get back to the Tower.
That was his mission now, he told himself. Nothing else mattered.
"And you can rot in hell."
Kyle had his goal set in stone, even in his delirious, battered state. He had just fought against a talking, sentient, dangerous Volatile but people relied on him, on the medicine making its way home. There didn't have to be any more sacrifices!
So much has happened to him over the weeks—since the day he parachuted down to Harran, got bitten, and was thrown into the thralls of the Harran Virus pandemic. Where people turned violent and attacked the living in the modern century. For days, he watched, he fought, and he survived. His entire journey led him to the Countryside, on a rumor that the people there weren't affected by the virus.
And during his time there, he had learned a lot, more than what he bargained for. More than what he had wanted to know. Things escalated for the worse—like it always had for him—until he dealt the final blow at the cult leader inside the dam's hold.
But he didn't come out of the fight unscathed. He could feel it snake painfully inside him. Something was wrong with his head. Something wasn't right with his legs. It was fatigue, wasn't it? He barely got out of that fight alive!
It was all right, though, he told himself. The battle was over. His long journey could finally end, and it could be over with the outbreak! Nothing was stopping him now: no Rais' men, no infected, not even the Mother. She was good as dead, and he could finally save everyone at the Tower!
He wanted to laugh out loud. The burning in his lungs wouldn't let him. Besides, Crane had a job to do. He had to keep his mind focused! Focus! You have to do this, he reminded himself. Everyone counted on him!
The weakened runner scrambled to the vials and picked the first one. He took one second to glance back - almost expecting the dead body behind him to rise back up even without a head. When it didn't happen, he picked the second one. Then a third for good measures. Once he confirmed he had all three in his hip pouch, he was off, tumbling his way for an exit.
Out of the dark, damp dam.
But things were making it hard on him. Or was it himself? The walls around him blurred into a dizzy, sickening soup. He was almost swimming in it and yet some leftover willpower urged him to keep going. No. Don't stop. He couldn't afford a short rest.
Then the visions flashed.
He was gone under for a couple of seconds, watching the faces violently snarl at him. Trying to kill him. They were enraged at him for leaving them behind. For abandoning them! But his body kept going. Once he surfaced back up to reality, he found himself clumsily wobbling into some white containers. Somewhere else.
"You can't change anything, Kyle."
This didn't feel right. He couldn't put his finger on why. This dizziness was taking far longer than he had hoped, along with this growing headache. Cold sweat breaking down his temple while his stomach did somersaults.
"What's happening to me?"
"You'll see for yourself…"
The colors warped around him into shiny, prismatic spheres. Again, he went down. Like drowning at the bottom of the ocean, and he was clawing back up for a breath of air. A set of old mattresses softened his lumbering fall.
"I… I killed you! I fucking killed you!"
Where was she? Where?! He'd find her and do it again if he had to!
"This is a poison…"
"It's not a poison!" His anger died out quickly as he desperately pulled out a vial. It was confirmation to himself, just to calm himself down from losing to insanity. "It's a cure!"
Again, he squeezed his fingers on the vial. It was real. Not an illusion! This was it: the key to everyone's problems!
"Lena?" Crane called over the line after keeping the last vial away. "Lena, I'm coming back with the medicine. We'll be able to help everyone now! Tell Camden that he has all the time in the world… No! Tell him that we have a new lead… A better one…"
Again, he went under. The flashes were getting worse—the familiar faces screaming at him, torturing him for his 'betrayal'. All his failures. When he breathed back up, he was by a barricade of blue containers. He heaved himself over them to spot a ray of hope gushing down a manhole.
A way out. A ladder. At the end of the tunnel. Out of this damp sewage.
With all the determination he had left, Crane pushed himself onwards. Ignore all the one-second faces going by. The masks, the symbols, the crazy fanatics? They were history. That damn Mother voice in his head was just an aftereffect from having his brain smashed up inside—that was all. Because she was silent now, no more whispering.
Replaced by something else. He couldn't hear it, but it was somewhere in the back of his mind.
A scratch. It hadn't been there before, had it?
Just go, Kyle. Get out of here.
Out into the blinding light.
Once the delirious runner climbed up to the surface, everything became relatively clear in his head. The blurriness had stopped, and he found himself feeling like he had woken up from a bad dream and into a surreal one.
The manhole he crept out of was right at the edge of a playground. Everything around him didn't have the hissing walkers hiding in the tall crops or dead carcasses littering the streets. No sign of the farmlands or the congested urban landmarks. Instead, the cozy suburban streets with well-cut lawns behind picket fences and a deceivingly peaceful sunny afternoon welcomed him.
He still searched. No infected. No cries of help. No outbreak.
The closest stirring of movement Crane saw was a car driving past the playground. Two kids, a boy with a toy sword and a girl, played around the jungle gym while an adult—maybe their mother or older sister—was watching nearby.
"Where am I?"
It felt alien to Kyle. After everything he had gone through—everything in the Slums and the countryside—none of this felt real to him. Did he just wake up or something? Or had he been dropped into a reality where the virus didn't exist and everyone was moving on with their lives?
No... That would mean moving on after all the deaths in Harran. He couldn't accept that.
"Oya! Time to go home!" he heard the woman call out as he hopped down to the park.
Maybe the family could fill him in on the details. Where he was, what was happening—all the questions. He needed to get to the others pronto-
The visions flashed again in his head, violently. An infected woman launched towards him with bared, bloodied teeth for a split second. And she looked familiar.
"Aaaaa!"
Suddenly, one of the kids pointed at him. They looked directly at him with terrified faces. Why? Both children rushed over to the lady, like chicks under the protection of a hen's wings.
"W-What?" Kyle muttered.
He reached out-
And gasped at the sight before him. His hands...they shouldn't be his hands. Orange veins like molten lava ran through his arm, glowing out of crusty, disgusting blackened skin. Nails were sharpened and warped into deadly talons.
He had seen these kinds of hands. Only at night. These weren't his hands!
But they were attached to him.
What...what is happening?
More screaming around him. At him.
He wanted to calm them down. He wasn't a danger! He was trying to help people! To save them!
Nothing came out of his throat. It was as if something deep within had started to take root in his subconscious and seized his voice for something...much more sinister.
Shout out your name, Kyle! To confirm that he was still human. He was still inside!
Someone please hear him!
Then the dimming of one enormous light caught his attention.
The sun sank behind the horizon. And just as it slowly descended behind the houses, something crept deeper inside his head. Settling into every corner of his grey matter and making itself right at home.
Foreign. Primitive.
Hungry.
Dark whispers telling him to embrace it. Tear, rip, kill. Getting louder and louder as the night drew closer.
His instinct screamed at him this wasn't right. Kyle Crane didn't feel like he was in control.
He turned back to the family. He wanted to tell them to get away from him but a snarl came out instead. The unknown energy was building up inside his muscles, readying him for the stalk. The hunt. His teeth were aching for some sinking into flesh. And that something in the back of his mind murmured toxically at him...to look over there. At the playground.
They were easy prey.
Get them.
He tried again to shout.
RUN!
But all that came out of his mouth was the howl of a bloodthirsty monster.
Three months later...
"Hm-Hmm-hmm!" hummed the chirpy, loud, and bouncy lyrics of sunshine and joy vibrating uncannily throughout the dark, damp tunnel.
Lurking along the banks were rabid walkers—infected people who had completely lost their humanity and transformed into vicious predators driven for the taste of human flesh. And just like animals alerting to any new sound and smell, the Biters grunted at the taunting noises bouncing off the tunnel walls.
Vroom roared the small motorboat. Painted in script on its starboard was the baptized name, Caroline. She glided over the gentle foams and the corpses, each body bumping against its hull with a loud thud.
The engine's noise, the portable radio's music, and the light humming. Something had entered the tunnel—the freaks' salvation from the sun. With nothing but instinct, they lashed out at the source, only for them to clumsily fall into the saltwater.
A fatal error but these mindless monsters no longer knew better. Like trapped rats, they desperately clawed at the sides while succumbing to the waters' cold embrace.
The upbeat beats drowned out every bump between a skull and the boat's hull. No sense of danger for the driver when none of the infected could try to board the boat. And even if a jumper did succeed, she—a woman in an eye-catching red jacket—would whack them off.
Her attention was elsewhere. Her fingers tapped along with the music, and hazel-blue eyes behind orange-tinted sports sunglasses focused upfront. To the end of the tunnel.
As of now, water was one safe means to travel around and away from the monsters. The channel provided the only best route without any sort of problem to worry about, so she could get to her destination.
It wasn't long before she could see the morning sunlight streaming in at the end of the tunnel warmly to greet her. The woman flipped a switch and turned off the modified UV lights along the bows before the boat stirred through the exit.
The first was the sting in her eyes from the sunlight getting past her sunglasses. She raised a gloved, calloused hand to block the sun before removing her grey, tattered cowl scarf from her face—which her auburn loose braid dropped down. Once her vision adjusted, she looked at the familiar Mediterranean coastline of Harran.
It used to be a vacation wonder for the tourists. Now look at it.
The breathtaking blue water and clear sky could no longer mask the city's horrors: the streams of black smoke in the distance and the distinct screams of the damned. An isolated apocalypse struck in this day and age, and yet, in some way, the city seemed to rebel against it. The walls remained intact, and the surviving residents continued to persevere through.
One more day. Just one more day of surviving the Harran outbreak. The infected. And from each other—men turning against one another. The scenery of Harran's fall reflected that as true as the cold steel stabbed into someone's back.
The driver of the small speedboat was particularly unfazed, used to the destruction but not without a bittersweet feeling.
She spotted the edge of the Slums in the far distance—only a thin line on the horizon. So close and yet so far away. The proverbial grip in her chest tightened a little, but she shoved the grim thought out, first with a sigh and then with a little ritual of hers. Enough to calm the nerves down like always.
Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Her fingers counted on the wheel. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4. Rinse and repeat.
Everything's going to be fine, Jackie. You'll see them.
Then her short attention drifted to one thing on the dashboard. Because it annoyed her. And that annoyance grounded her from her anxiety—a good distraction helped the mind from overthinking.
On the dashboard was a weird bobblehead knockoff, probably from China from the quality of the material. She was told it was some game character—a rap singer with an open black shirt, red bandana over his eyes, and one big golden B-pendant chain around his neck. It just tempted her to poke at it and watch the head bobble.
"You sure have weird taste, Lenny..." she uttered with a thick Londoner accent.
There was then a feeling of vibration in the pocket of her sling bag. At first, she decided to ignore it. Because she knew what the call would be about. Maybe this upcoming earful would be less deafening since it was still daybreak. Her caller would be looking for a perk-me-up right about now anyway.
That was what the woman had bet on. Eventually, she slipped a small earpiece into her ear, linked to the walkie-talkie kept in her sling bag.
Beep!
"Jack? Do you read?"
Oh, she could hear that lovable voice loud and clear. Steaming and ready to give her a vocal one-two punch. So she deliberately kept quiet and continued watching the scenery again.
"I know you can hear me!" the young lad in his twenties screamed from the other end.
"Just admiring the view, Bones."
"Where are you? Everyone's been looking for you all morning."
"... Ok. I don't know which to be mad about . Thinking you got killed. Or out of all the places in Harran to go to, you're heading there! " her friend snapped. "You don't even have a Lifeline with you!"
The driver chuckled, disregarding that one important rule—a rule everyone back home agreed to. Her friend on the line easily conceded instead of barraging at her for ignoring that one rule. He could do nothing but sigh.
"Asem's going to be pissed. "
"Actually, she's the one who approved it."
" Wait. She did? "
"You gotta do what you gotta do for family," she reassured him before drifting the conversation off. "...You know, this boat ride is mighty relaxing."
" Well. That explains Lenny going ballistic this morning ... Seriously , Jack. You could have been gunned down by the Navy. "
"Just a short trip. I'll be back in a tick."
" Short trip. Right. "
"Tower's gone quiet for too long, Bones. I just want to make sure they're all right," she boasted. "My idiot cousin will be thrilled to see me up and about."
" You've never liked your cousin. "
"No. But he's a bloody fool and he's all I have left in this world." She could hear the sigh exhume too close to the mic, the owner greatly worried about her future heading to Harran.
So she continued. "Could be a faulty wire in their radio. We don't have the best equipment either."
" But for them to be radio silent this long? "
"I'm not worried." And she most certainly knew her friend did not believe her one bit. "Rahim wouldn't shut up about their new runner doing all the heavy lifting."
"Sounds like he's the complete opposite of you."
"Sounds like I've never done any good for you lot. Remember," Jack playfully warned. "I'm the only one who's doing this little pet project of yours."
"No, I mean - you are a good person! But sometimes your methods are...unorthodox."
"At least it brings bread on the table, doesn't it?" she pointed out. "You know. I should extend this trip a little longer. Do a little sightseeing. You lot will do fine without me."
"What - No! Of course, you're needed here. Stop putting words in my mouth!"
She chuckled. "I'm joking, Bones. It'd take a lot more for me to cut ties with the Ravs."
Another sigh, this time out of relief. "Thank you. Asem would have my head if you did…"
"Our fearless leader? Nooo," Jack chided. "She'd make you stay on radio duty for another week."
"Ugh. She would... Jack. Are you sure you want to be doing this...? There's nobody to get you if you go under again. And no one outside the Ravens can know about this 'project' either."
"Don't fret, love. All I'm doing is a little birdwatching out here," the woman in red chided, dramatically twirling her hand. "Watch how those freaks of nature think. Let a few Biters take a snack off my blood-"
"For collecting data, not screwing with your life," the young man on the other end grumbled loudly. "We have no idea if it will even work. We haven't finished the tests, for Pete's sake!"
Jack rolled her eyes at how thick the uncertainty fled from her earpiece. How many times would she have to repeat this before he understood?
"Bones. My secret weapon works. You saw the results," she stated as a matter of fact with a shake of her fist. "So if I can get the data you need, then we can help the Tower out with that cure of theirs, right?"
"Theoretically, yes. But-"
"Then it's a better solution than just waiting. I beat the odds. I'm the only one brave enough to get up close for those samples."
There was a muffled scream—hands over a mouth. Bones was surely having a hard time trying to win this one-sided argument. "...You were cutting so close last time. Your cousin...if you two really do care about each other, then he's gonna be real broken about you."
The tension could be heard through the earpiece. He was still beaten up about the past month. Hell, it was understandable, so Jack couldn't help but feel a little apologetic.
"I know, Bones. I know. I'll...try to be a bit more careful."
" That doesn't give me a vote of confidence. And you're not going to listen to me one way or another… You got your PACT with you? "
Jack raised her wrist high up, glancing at the black digital bracelet with a thin green monitor: pulsing with the easy readings, from reading her adrenaline spikes to the chemical influx mumbo jumbo.
"You should really come up with a better name."
"Shut up and keep an eye on the color. When it goes blue, call me with the results. When it hits red, call me! Keep that tracker on at all times, got it?"
"Got it."
"And no fists!" he hissed. "Just...find a weapon. Craft it out of thin air, for all I care. But no hand-to-hand combat. Don't even be a hero."
"Hero?" she laughed. What a word to pick out of the hat for her old reputation; it came across as quite insulting. "I'm Mad Jack. I'm immortal."
"Was. Keyword, was Mad Jack. You're retired, remember?" Bones groaned, letting a pause swing by. "Call us when you get to the Slums."
"You'll hear from me in a couple of hours."
" And be careful out there ," her worried companion persisted—if she didn't know better, he had a long list of worries he wanted to go over with her. " GRE's been seen as of late. Coming in hot and heavy."
"What's new?" Jack jested, unfazed, and a little irritated.
" Hey, no joke. We don't want any of their attention. "
"You know, they could just bring in another bomb and solve all their problems in one go."
" Jaaack, " he whined. " Why can't you be optimistic for once? "
"I'm being realistically optimistic. There's a difference."
"Just get those samples and be back here in one piece, ok? Good luck."
With the other end gone cold, the runner kept the earpiece away, satisfied with the conversation. Her grin gradually softened as she stared back at the awful scene on the horizon.
"...Don't think I can promise you that last bit, mate."
Looking back to the horizon deepened Jack's apprehension—it wasn't her first time in a pandemic.
The infected roamed the streets like packs of lions. At night, even worse threats emerged, craving flesh and blood. And that was just the tamest part about the city.
Citizens struggled with food, water, and even Antizin. For what was nearly a year, only the strongest survived, leading to factions believing they were beacons of hope while fighting each other for supplies. The most dangerous group she had heard about from the Slums was one led by a psychopath. Jack could only imagine the city becoming ruins, with the airdrops stopping for over three months.
Well, that is what happens when the world abandons a dying city. The rest of the country focused on contaminating the virus from beyond Harran's walls. They had left Harran to solve their issues on their own; humans left to their own devices turned into the most threatening and vicious enemy than the undead.
So once Jack reached the Slums, she needed to keep her head down and stay low—no unnecessary trouble or attention while she was there.
The worst part was how much time had passed. The Outskirts, where she and the speedboat originated, had changed significantly after months without normality. Jack witnessed those changes during her time there, and with that, she understood that with the same passage of time, the city had changed as well.
Nature slowly took over, spreading inward. Fewer and fewer people from small communities bunkered down at the city's corners for sanctuary, while more and more infected conquered areas beyond saving.
The world grew smaller and smaller beyond human control.
If it wasn't death by the infection or a nuclear bomb, then time was suffocating the city to a slow and insidious death.
"...You'd better be alive and breathing, Harris."
It was a pointless hope. That didn't mean she couldn't try.
Just as she glanced back to the bow, something else caught her attention. It was at the edge of the nearby coast. The rocks and supports there provided a good hiding spot. Boats. Similar to the one she had.
Abandoned? She did see something move across the deck...
Jack turned back to cruising, half a mind to focus straight on her destination. But she looked to the rear mirror.
In only seconds, those boats had left their hiding spot and speeded towards her. Three of them.
Yup, trouble heading her way. And it wasn't the Navy. They'd have shot her down earlier.
Jack sighed.
Then she hit the throttle.
Faster, faster Caroline went. Her tailers picked on this and immediately tried to catch up.
She already knew it was unavoidable; it didn't take long for one of them to be neck-to-neck with her vehicle.
And on that boat were three men. One at the wheel, two at the starboard. Orange suits. Prisoners.
They certainly weren't there to welcome her with hospitality.
"Stop the boat!" One swayed a Glock from his belt and pointed it at her, every wave rocking his balance a bit.
No. Jack made a hard turn on the wheel to the right.
BAM!
It was a clear miss! But any of the next bullets could surely hit her. Or the engine. A straight line to the Slums was a no-go now.
"After her!"
A boat chase, and this early in the morning too. She steered her boat left and right, ducking from the bullets. How free and happy the convicts must have felt to be using firearms—they didn't have to worry about the zombies out in the ocean.
Jack hated guns.
So change of plans: to the Coast. She could have a better chance on foot. Sorta.
"We ain't trying to kill ya, lady!" one prisoner burst with laughter, thinking of a prize better than the boat itself.
"Capsize her!"
THUD!
"Hey! You'll ruin the paint job!" Jack hollered, before hissing to herself, "Lenny's gonna kill me!"
"Shit! It's that thing!"
Thing? What thing? Jack quickly peered back, watching the men suddenly put the brakes on; one boat making a quick 180 around.
"Fall back! FALL BACK NOW!"
And just like that, they backed away.
Why?!
The brunette looked ahead, searching for a threat big enough to scare off convicts. Nothing above the water but the surface had evidence—trails of seafoam heading in her direction.
Whatever it was, it was underwater. And it was already right on top of Jack before she could do anything.
THUD!
Despite her best efforts to avoid it, the unknown thing hit the bow. Hard.
CRASH!
The sheer force bashed the boat right to a 45-angle left, diving right into a stone pier. The wheel in her hands revolted against her, no matter how hard she tried turning it the other way. All she could do was brace for the impact and go along with the shaky ride.
She was crashing, whether she liked it or not.
KLUNK!
"GARGH!" Her whole body went flying right onto a pile of blue garbage bags, cushioning her abrupt fall. The full brunt knocked the wind right out of her. For a few undesirable seconds, her vision went blurry as she rolled off with a painful huff. Her mind told her to get up and run. She wasn't alone on the dock. She couldn't waver. Biters everywhere, staggering towards the one noise they heard: her.
Then she remembered the boat. Its side smashed, and with nothing to pilot it, it aimlessly drifted away from the stoned dock. Away from her.
"Shit!" Jack forced herself onto her knees. She had to hurry-
"Grooooaaawnn!" Coming in out of the blues, an 8-foot-tall Goon lifted up a piece of rebar. High up it went, ready to crack open her head like a watermelon.
"Whoa!"
THUD!
The concrete beneath the spot she was just at cracked apart as she skidded a good three, five feet across the ground on her bum. The Goon's hollow white eyes glimpsed with raw instinct. To kill a puny human.
Her situation couldn't get any better! Jack's orange-suited pursuers decided to take her crash as an opportunity and came back for Round Two, slowing closer to Caroline. Or because they wanted to get to land before whatever thing in the sea would get to them too.
Whatever. She wasn't going to deal with the zombies or the prisoners. or both.
"You know what? Keep it!"
She bolted like a bat out of Hell before the next swing cracked into the floor.
Nobody would dare go up and fight a Goon. That's crazy thinking! And she had her fair share of craziness—just not the right opportunity right now and after that talk with Bones. Jack knew the odds, and they were very much against her. She was weaponless, defenseless, and carried little on her; the rest of her equipment was now at the bottom of the sea.
A fistfight couldn't help this time with her opponents. They were more resilient than most fighters. But speed was another tool she could use in times like this. So Jack took off in a harsh sprint from the swinging rebar. No time to stop for a split second.
There was just one slight problem. She had nowhere safe to go! After the pier was a two-story-tall, thirty-foot-long barricade. An extra wing of Harran's City Walls nudged into the coastline and stretched from one end of the beach to the other. It was a new addition after the rebuilding of those surrounding walls in the past, now barred with all sorts of barricades to keep any infected from hopping over into the next-door municipality. The Coast was a closed-off area for a reason; the GRE and authorities established a means of protection for the nearby quarantine areas, bordering off the shorelines and the city of Harren. Keeping the infection and anyone else out.
That was the reason she took the route in the first place! No infected along the coastline and most of all, no Navy.
Now she was paying the price.
"Someone! Anyone!" she hollered along the side. Just one kind soul over the wall to hear her and pull her over, which was highly unlikely. They'd shoot her on sight. If she must, she was going to have to take a dip and face whatever was lurking in the water.
On second thought, she'd take her luck in finding a port and a working vehicle. Anything.
Something did hear her cry from beyond the walls. It just so happened that it perched itself up at one of the nearby coastal high-rises. The voice of a panicked human rang like that of a dinner bell. Golden eyes snapped in the direction of Jack's voice, ushering it to go closer to the walls in an animalistic manner. There, faintly, was the blurry outline of a skeletal figure sprinting across a monochromatic world. That was what the creature, covered in worn drapes, saw; the target flared just as brightly as the sun.
A prey running to its dinner plate. It whiffed the air, catching her scent from fifty or more feet away.
With a low hiss out of its mouth—declaring to itself that it was set for the newcomer—it dropped off its perch. A horrendous tendril made of flesh fired right out of its split-open claw and to a lamppost before its feet could touch the ground. The momentum swung the creature under the protective shadows of the buildings. Right towards the woman in red.
The hunter loomed after the hunted along the great walls.
And Jack didn't know it was coming. She had the usual small fry coming for her ankles.
Her run, however, dropped to a skip and a halt as her eyes widened at a new sight. Crumpled rocks laid waste on the floor. From a giant hole in the wall.
What? When did this open up? Layers of concrete and reinforced steel were destroyed just like that? By a Demolisher or something?
No! Stop the questions. They didn't matter right now. Her life did!
The gurgling groans and snarls closed in right behind her. Surrounding her. The walkers picked up the pace on their new prey as she galloped through the tear. Sure enough, beyond the walls were more infected, heads spinning around to fresh, tasty meat on legs.
It was like a gazelle running along the waterhole where all the predators had come for a drink.
Perfect! As if I didn't have enough problems!
"Get up, Jackie! The floor's lava!"
With a foot on a fence and another on a sliding, she swished her way up to the second deck of coastal houses. Hopping from one balcony to the next, Jack looked around for any likely safe spot to stay for a good amount of time, just to get her bearings again. Either way, being up and above was far safer than being below on the streets.
And was it not a pleasant side. This city was riddled with Biters and Virals, just like Harran-
"Graaargh!"
"Oomph!" She didn't notice one Viral coming fast at her from an open door, and both came tumbling off the balcony. This time, there was no soft cushion for Jack. "Gargh!"
A blinding pain wracked through her body in an instant. Her ears rang with vertigo hitting her like a kick to the head. She hoped her skull was fine; Bones would never forgive her if he found out. But as her head cleared up, she felt another source of pain lingering elsewhere.
On her leg. The Viral that fell down with her was latching onto it, climbing its way up her body with a hiss.
"Get off me!" She kicked it off with one fell swoop. One quick check on her leg and luckily, there wasn't a bite mark. No sign of tear in the fabric But she did get a scratch during the tussle—beads of blood trickled from her hand.
A bite wasn't and shouldn't be her main concern. Because a second Viral was darting after her from across the street.
Quickly, her hand searched behind her and gripped a pipe lying around. The space between them wasn't enough time for her to use it to its fullest potential as a weapon—the infected runner was already pinning her down with its rotten body, spreading saliva at her. Jack quickly pushed back the snapping jaws with the metal at the neck and one shoe pushing back its chest. And on an important matter; she was spending too long on the ground.
Seriously? This was how she was going to end up? Getting eaten by these feral bastards?
"Mad Jack isn't gonna die here! Not. Until. I say so!" She booted the Viral right off her. A quick moment to herself and she jumped up onto her feet once more.
For a second, she prepared herself. She has a weapon now. The next second, she realized she could be doing the pet project on the go. But oh, it couldn't be that easy. Why wasn't her choice of weapon a blade?!
"Gaaarh!" The Viral she had kicked off wailed its war cry at her, ushering more undead comrades to join. The more company, the easier it would be to feast.
Jack ran her bleeding hand along the metal pipe's point and battered up at the charging Viral. Right at its open mouth. Yellowed teeth flew as the infected collapsed from the impact. Jack wheeled to the next incoming freak, ignoring the sudden choking and gurgling behind her.
Body count: two. But more zombies flooded into the open space she found herself in, magnetized to her brash fighting.
As much as she joked with Bones at the confident idea she'd let the Biters take a snack at her, that was a fool's idea and she knew it! All the while, she didn't see the hunter shifting in the urban canopies above her.
Waiting.
Just for the right moment to dive onto her. The small fry made a good distraction, receiving a good whack to the head. Less competition and the prey would tire out. But what kept it from jumping at the right timing, sinking its teeth right into her flesh, was the burning UV rays—the sun particularly sheltered her in a mocking way to the hunter. Board daylight; a Special infected's weakness. But not enough to ward off the lesser ones.
A clicking sound erupted from its throat with growing impatience as another infected made a frantic dash to claim the fighting prey before it could, only to have its face clobbered in by Jack.
Another Viral hared towards Jack, screaming its head off. Two choices she could make now; make a path or stay and fight. The first sounded better in her head!
Just as she was about to swing at the approaching Viral, then make a break for it—
"Rrrargh!"
The Viral was gone. Two bodies rolled off, the force nearly taking her along for the ride. Clank, her pipe hit the ground and out of her hands from the tumble. On the ground, she saw one infected rise triumphantly over the other—the bigger-sized one—and exhume out another roar so loud and fierce that it made Jack's heart jump to her throat.
It was pure domination that expressed the words, "this one is mine!" outright, telling the small scamp that it was outmatched. A brief moment of the Viral's humanity came back; pleading out of sudden terror but the bigger foe had no sense of listening. Even the nearby infected surrounding them, and their prey, didn't intrude.
Jack scrambled away as far as she could go, only to have her back hit the stone rim of a large fountain while she bore witness to a one-sided feral fight.
And it was brutal.
Smack! Smack! Down a balled-up fist, then the next fist. Again and again. Brain matter and bone fragments scattered from every hit.
It had been a while since Jack felt fear, shaking in her shoes. Because that thing was a beast! Bashing the Viral to a bloody pulp with its bare fists!
Fists? Zombies don't punch. They flailed their arms at humans in an attempt to overwhelm them, but they didn't have a shred of intelligence to know how to 'punch'. And those fists? They were split-opened claws, enough to tear flesh apart instead of beating on meat.
Suddenly, a pair of golden eyes snapped right onto her. They glowed as bright as fireflies under the shade of the fountain. The hunter bared its canines at her in a loud snarl.
That was enough to make the brawler freeze on the spot. Jack couldn't tear away from them. This infected...Jack hadn't seen its kind before. She had encountered all sorts: Biters, Virals, even Volatiles. But this...Beastly was on a whole new and different level. Just the sheer build spoke volumes—she could already guess how hideous its whole body had to be with bone spikes piercing out of the back of its shredded clothing.
She couldn't see the face; the bastard wore some sort of head covering before that turned into rags. Maybe long after its infection. Of course, she didn't want to see its ugly mugshot.
But it was clear to her. The beastly's eyes were locked on the one thing in the entire square. Angier. More bloodthirsty than a regular infected's primal instinct.
As if some sort of switch inside its head flipped on at the sight of her, she could read exactly what it wanted in those eyes.
It wanted Jack.
"Fuck! Are you kidding me?!"
It howled.
The hunt was on.
She climbed back onto her feet and bolted for an uphill street. No time to vault up to the roofs when she could feel Beastly hounding after her. On foot! It could outmatch any professional athlete!
It didn't help that the dead onlookers weren't giving Jack way either. They hawked right behind her, around her and in front of her.
But if they were going to make it difficult for her, she might as well do the same.
"Ragh!" she cried and drove her knee into one freak for standing in her way. Another down for the count. But the rest? She couldn't waste her energy on both fighting and running together. Jack chose to keep sprinting.
The predator's roars did make her look back. For a quick second to see the thing flung off a few backers like annoying flies swarming to the tasty meal on the go. It sounded like the tough guy didn't want to share her with the other infected. She took that conflict between 'their kind' as a blessing in disguise.
"HEY!"
Jack gazed up at the voice of a very young woman. Up the stretch of road ahead, she spotted a heavily fenced-up warehouse that greatly stood out from the other buildings: hastily-made bridges and canopies above, with ropes and barred spikes decorating the top.
Jumping up and down was a short lady with a military cap on a platform there, waving her arms at the brunette.
"This way!" the lass hollered.
Survivors!
Two more joined the youngster on the platform, all three clearly in similar runner attire. They took to the spotlights with the purple lens stationed on the platform and propped them up like assault rifles, right in the brunette's direction.
"Blast it!"
At first, the lights didn't seem to do anything, almost invisible under the bright sun. But the sound of sizzling skin and aggravated hisses made her realize one thing. Ultraviolet lights.
"Open the gates! Hurry!" the black-haired girl hollered down below, which whoever was behind the gates compelled. The heavy-grate doors growled loudly but opened too slowly. It was a tight squeeze, but Jack quickly dropped down into a skid and slid right through the narrow gap.
A loud roar echoed behind her. It didn't sound like the predator with the golden eyes. That was a lot bigger.
"Close it! Close it!" the lass hollered in panic.
One thug that towered over even most men Jack knew in her lifetime hurried to the center of the gates and, with all his strength, cranked them shut. The gates suddenly banged, the force pushing even the hulk off his feet. Time was ticking: the teenager quickly dropped down to hurry up with the locks while more people joined, armed to the teeth to handle the big guy outside.
"Keep those UV lights on that thing! Get some heat out there now!" A man's dominating voice boomed across the front yard of the warehouse, with a limp in his leg. "Will, go check out our visitor."
Jack couldn't sit up and watch the rushed activities unfolding around her. Looking back with her vision upside-down didn't help her assess her whole situation either. But she was safe and sound.
Wrapping a stethoscope around his neck that he had carried in his hand, an old man in his fifties kneeled beside her and immediately uttered words she took time to comprehend. First, it was Turkish? Polish next?
Then he tried English, "Are you alright?"
More or less, but Jack was all too weary to speak up. She listened to the sounds, which told her that things slowly got back under control within the warehouse. Running for her dear life did her body in a little. Every muscle in her body burned. She was even too numb and tired to notice the doctor examining her for any injuries. Her breathing, her pressure—all the basics of a health check. After all, her mind was too preoccupied right then and there.
This day wasn't supposed to end like this. Her boat wasn't supposed to crash, she wasn't supposed to make an emergency pit into the Coast, and she knew this city wasn't supposed to be overrun with the infected.
None of this was what she had planned. But then again, some of her plans never went entirely the way she wanted them to.
"B-Bloody fucking dandy…" was all she could muster out as a murmur. Jack finally let exhaustion win the battle this time and shut her eyes. Didn't matter if she received more pain when the back of her head hit the dirt. She was gone out like a light.
One thing was for certain. She was stuck in Scanderoon for a while.
2024 A/N: I never did make this but I want to put up front a special thanks to my best friend and beta editor of the Descent, the support of close DL friends, a big thanks to is-gw for doing a Chinese (simplified) translation of Descent, and to my readers. This started as me having a random idea of "what happens to Kyle Crane after the Following and how can I *beep* him over in the writing?", ended up with making one of my most passionate world-building fanfic with Crane meeting new and old people, along with creating my most comprehensive and fun original character, Mad Jack. I could not get this far thanks to so much love and support for this fic.
A/N: Hello all. So this is my take on what happens after The Following—or more specifically, a sequel to the Vile ending. Dying Light has become a gem to me and I wanted to create a fanfic that not only continues the story but also explores the aftermath in a meaningful way.
This is still very much Kyle Crane's story—his redemption arc. Meanwhile, the red herring protagonist, Mad Jack, is to serve as his wingmate (for a lot of reasons later on, cough) with plans and circumstances that will affect the development between them, for the better or worse. And yes, there are OCs, and I do hope that each original creation I make is as fresh and well-polished to your liking, even for Mad Jack—especially Mad Jack. She's a well-rounded brawler with her own personality and backstory. I understand that OCs can be hit or miss for some, so I want to make it clear: Jack is the deuteragonist, supporting Crane's journey throughout most of the plot. She's the sidekick so to speak.
Jack's creation is built around the relationship between Brecken, Kade and Rahim. I took Brecken's lines as being protective towards the two in the early part of the game and there could be reasons for the amiability (like Rahim was one of his students). But I've also thought of the idea that someone was a common denominator between all three to create bonds between Brecken and the siblings. So I made Jack Brecken, aka Mad Jack the Wild Dog. She's Brecken's relative, Jade's rival/mentor and Rahim's close friend/guardian before the outbreak.
And with that, created a powerful plot point: Crane discovering that Jack knew the Aldemir siblings—and hiding the truth from her that they're dead. When that moment comes, it'll be an emotional turning point in the story. Moreover, I designed Jack as a darker counterpart to Crane, bringing out facets of his personality in new ways. Metaphorically, while Crane represents white lies, Jack represents the brutal truth: the false hero, and the honest villain. There are going to be a lot of dynamics I have, not just between them but with the broader world of Descent.
Another note: I've mapped out the overall plot into five main arcs (the prologue arc is currently being reworked on the go). With Dying Light 2 on the horizon, I've been considering how much of this fic can tie into that story while maintaining continuity. So as to what has happened with Harran and its characters during the time leading to Dying Light 2 will be an interesting take to delve in.*
Ok enough rambling. I hope you'll enjoy this and review. Please let me know if there are some problems or mistakes I can improve on or lore I should tackle. Thank you very much and welcome to the Descent.
* 29/10/24 - With the Beast DLC coming around and now working on the Harran Arc, a lot of initial ideas I had have been shifted around, especially what I initially had for the ending. But I'm very much looking forward to how the rest of the story will be heading.
Edit, 10/10/19: Hey all, this is a major update which probably current readers won't see but I'm going over my chapters for revamping and fixes. Nothing too major but
also some added things to make the flow better. One thing I'm doing is organizing these chapters and separating them into arcs so I'm not all over the place onwards.
There'll be a total of four arcs, and a fifth being the prologue arc.
18/10/19 - Reedited for minor mistakes and errors.
13/8/20 - Reedited minor mistakes and errors. Added a small important key story dialogue.
1/2/2021 and 5/1/2021 - Changed timestamp and added minor details according to new timeline of Descent.
25/12/21 - Edited some phrasings.
15/2/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments. Added more description into first encounter between Jack and Freakazoid.
5/10/22 - Fixed some lines.
18/2/23 - Made new cover page.
21/2/23 - Edited some lines and grammar.
23/2/23 - Edited more lines, tweaked some of the mood and pacing.
16/4/23 - Added a new section of a boat chase before Jack's crash.
28/10/24 - Edited some lines and had to rework my author note because of how long it's gotta X'D