Chapter Summary
- THE CANDIDATE
Another day survived. Another night alive. It doesn't get old. But I would be lying if I wasn't apprehensive after that fight. That 'Day' Hunter wasn't a normal infected and he survived my secret weapon... Could he be the candidate we've been looking for? - Jack
FOUR: RIVALRY
The one lesson every survivor of the Harran Virus outbreak learned—whether the hard way or the cowardly way—was how treacherous the nights could become. And the people of Scanderoon had to learn that as well.
Three months of grim adaptation: barricading themselves in their own houses and staying up high on the roofs without being snagged by the infested roads below. Safe Zones fell like dominoes, while others were armed to the teeth.
Sacrifices were made, and tears were shed for just a fraction of time.
There was no escape from a pandemic. Either it burned itself out, or help arrived from the outside. But for three long months, no help had come.
So, the only option left was to endure. Sleep through the long, bloody nights—that was a double-edged sword right at the neck.
Block out the snarls, cries and noises outside.
Fight off the nightmares as they chipped away a man's mind.
Feel his sanity snap under the building weight from his apocalyptic reality.
For the veterans, sleep came easier. Because one needed a good night's sleep. The energy to live through the next day. To fight again.
One mistake, one sluggish decision because of a skipped nap could end it all.
Crane thought that would be the case for him after being knocked out—sink into unconsciousness and perhaps, if he was lucky, never wake again. But for some reason, he didn't go under.
In fact, he was too lucid. Could it be a side effect? Because he was a monster now?
The whole world was suddenly so bright and colorful around him.
He could hear everything. All too clear.
The breathing unsettled him—not because it might belong to a beast, but because he, the beast, listened to the steady rhythm of a human's breath.
That human was slumped in the worn embrace of an old, sagging sofa, her back to him. She slept soundly, unaware of the intruder lurking in the unfamiliar office space. Crane scanned the room: an old-fashioned interior, a rickety computer perched on a cluttered desk, and walls adorned with photos, awards, trophies, and certificates.
The smell of cheap-ass Turkish tobacco hung heavy in the air so tightly, almost making him believe he was still somewhere in Harran.
In his drowsy haze, one question gnawed at his mind: How did I get here?
What should have been a night of terror, the windows lied to him with a lovely, warm day!
"Jack."
Crane froze up. Shit! He turned his head sharply, locking his gaze on the source of the voice.
A simple-looking man, the source of the tobacco, and somehow oblivious to a monster standing next to him after closing the door behind him. Older, more tired, wiser than both Kyle and the woman on the sofa.
Crane shrank into the corner of the room, watching as the man approached the sleeping woman.
The old man's first call did rouse the woman named Jack up—or, in this case, annoyed her—but she snuggled back down. The kind of reluctance that said, Just five more minutes.
So he tried again. Calm and deliberate. With a heavy hand reaching down and shaking her shoulder.
"Jack."
"I'm up," the brunette muttered groggily, sitting up far too quickly.
The dizziness hit her like a wave, forcing her to pause, eyes squeezed shut before they fluttered open again.
"…I'm up," she repeated, her voice sharper now.
Crane took a better look at the brunette; just starting her prime years, wearing clothes as comfy and clean clothes as the old man. Nothing that suited the apocalyptic backdrop.
Everything he was seeing didn't scream a zombie outbreak!
What made the whole experience weirder, what caught his attention more was that they didn't light up like fireflies. None of those orange skeletons highlighting prey. None of his zombie vision.
Just normal-looking humans in a clear-looking world. Either his eyes had returned to normal or he had gotten a pair of glasses.
"Burn another night?"
The man's voice broke the quiet, placing two things on the coffee table: his worn beret tossed with casual indifference and a hot cup of chocolate gently down.
Shaking her head, the brunette tried to get comfortable, sitting up as straight as she could, while her friend sat back in his own chair, putting his hands together and doing the one thing he was very good at: listening.
A couple of swallows, a massage of the tired eyes before the brunette named Jack glanced up at the old man. Not at the stranger, Crane, in the room.
It was like he never existed at all in this time and space.
This was a dream, right? Had to be.
"I wouldn't say it was enjoyable," Crane heard the woman chide. But she didn't share the old man's enthusiasm. Or whatever it was—the man kept a very good poker face.
But Crane understood one thing; he might not have a good read him, but one look back at the brunette said that the old man was one of the fewest people she trusted.
"I did say this gym is always yours. I didn't say you could exhaust yourself."
Gym. Ok, Crane got his location… Now where exactly was this gym?
"No, no… What time is it?"
"Nearly noon." The old man—Mert—watched her stifle a yawn. Gradually, his thin, impalpable smile turned upside down. Darker. "It was Savvas, wasn't it?"
The mood shifted completely. Even Crane, still an outsider to this strange tableau, could read the tension thickening between the two actors of this dream.
The air in the room shifted, tension creeping in like a shadow. Even Crane, who had been more focused on piecing together his surroundings, could feel it settle over them like a heavy blanket.
The woman didn't flinch—she had been expecting this. Her expression, though tired, carried a hint of resignation, as if the confrontation was unavoidable.
She sighed. "Nothing gets by you, Mert."
"I've been with you for how long? I know every trick in the book, Jack."
Jack inhaled deeply, then quickly took the cup again in her hands. Crane noted the hesitation in her body language—the intention had been to play it off, throw a backhand statement to turn the conversation around.
But Mert would see it coming a mile away.
He actually reminded Crane of an old vet he once knew in the past.
Again, Jack inhaled deeply. No more hiding. She had already made that rule for herself years ago.
So, she gave in to Mert's listening ear. "I don't know how he found out…"
"Hm," Mert huffed. Disappointed? Collected? Nobody couldn't tell. "I've taught you enough that paranoia is not a good thing."
"You did teach me that. But the things I've done... The things he..." She suddenly shook her head—painfully. "Can't be too careful..."
Was this about some lovers' quarrel, Crane wondered.
The brunette slumped back in her seat, softness cushioning the back of her head. "Thought I could cover my tracks and call it a day."
"You should have come to me. To anyone of us," Mert said with concern.
"Then what? Call the police?" Jack chimed, but the tone easily broke apart. "Mert. You and I both know that man is untouchable."
She looked at him dead in the eye.
For once, the Wild Dog was a little...afraid. The infamous, unbreakable fiend in the kickboxing world knew the word, fear.
"…He's not gonna stop until he settles the score," Another sigh came out of her lungs. A hum of acknowledgment from the old man.
Crane had only half a mind on the conversation. Everything about this felt so strange but he didn't make a move and start asking the two people questions. What about the virus, the outbreak, people dying? Everything he saw wasn't right.
As if Crane had time-traveled back to the past and witnessed two average citizens talk over a mundane issue less problematic than the Harran Virus. A life free from the dismay and the screeching damned.
But despite it sounding mundane, he knew it was serious.
"Plus...if he goes down...I go with him."
"Because of the things you've done."
This sounded heavier than what Crane interpreted, more than relationship problems. Regardless, he listened—whatever the problem was, whether there was a problem or not, he'd alway offer an ear.
Jack nodded dejectedly, her fingers tracing the rim of the cup in a distracted, whimsical pattern. "It's my word against his-"
"Bah! That's a load of bull and you know it."
"Mert. Vlachos isn't just any weapons dealer."
"Vlachos?" Neither of the two heard Crane but he couldn't help but be surprised. Nor did he realize his voice sounded normal.
Savvas Vlachos… He had heard that name before.
How did two random strangers know that name?
"You don't give me enough credit. I can go on for another ten years," the old man's voice cut through Crane's thoughts.
Jack chuckled softly. But not completely wholeheartedly. Yes, the comment was nice, but it didn't dull the doubts away.
"...Can't say I didn't see it coming," she droned. Weary. Weak. Vulnerable. "Bloody timing."
"Hm," Crane observed Mert—he had a worn-down, rough and tough exterior about him. Hunched forward, hands together as Mert pondered quietly. "Just have to keep a low profile until then. Don't show your cards until he deals."
Jack snorted. "Problem is he's known all my cards from the very beginning."
"Everyone starts with dirty hands, Jack. The trick is knowing when to fold. And you did. You walked away."
That…was the best advice Crane had ever heard. Wished he had been told that in the past.
"And he's not letting that fold go." Jack put down the cup. Apparently, her already-small appetite just fled out of her stomach.
The old man's face darkened, seething, sharing the same bereavement as Jack. There was history between them but Crane wasn't a mind-reader.
"If Valchos comes after you, I'll break every bone in his body."
Now Jack would love to see that. "Thanks for the gesture, Mert… But I don't want you to get hurt. She wouldn't-"
"She wouldn't want it. But you need this."
This time, Jack let the words sink in…
"Now," Mert said, breaking the silence as he climbed out of his seat. He picked up his hat but didn't wear it right away. "How about we give empty, hm? Got something to show you downstairs."
Jack arched an eyebrow, but Mert offered no further explanation and simply headed for the door. Something had him chirpier than usual that morning.
Which was rare from the old man with little expressions.
Jack lingered a moment, then rose from the sofa with a soft groan. She gave herself a stretch and a rub on her neck before walking a few steps forward into the sunbeams.
Morning clearly was something she disliked but this one time, she put aside her disdain to look out at the office window.
It was relatively pleasant and warm through the blinds—a nice afternoon in the Outskirts of Harran. Birds chirping, children playing at the nearby park. A lively street with cars driving by and passerbys moving on with their lives.
She had to admit that it was one of her better days.
All while completely ignorant of Crane's presence. His body moved instinctively, stepping out of their lines of sight—a reflex born of survival. But it was pointless when they still didn't see him.
He had to sidestep aside when the old man left the office, fearing that if their paths were to collide, Crane would be solid, real, in the dream.
But no, Mert continued on his way none the wiser.
Crane followed her gaze—seeing and hearing the deceivingly regular day. What snagged both the woman's and now his focus was the billboard across the street.
A poster about a Zombie-Annihilation movie. Coming to theatres soon. Starring an actress in a ripped purple dress and boots, brandishing an assault rifle against a horde of the undead.
Hold on there. He remembered that movie. It came out in…2011? No. The year before that.
"I can never get the appeal in zombie movies."
Crane stiffened. Did the woman finally see Crane and talk to him?
No, she was mumbling to herself.
But no. She was mumbling to herself, her tone laced with disdain. "Always the screaming, the 'thought-provoking' meditations, and fake gore… Completely unrealistic."
The half-sleepy woman walked out of the office, leaving Crane standing there, reeling.
Back and forth.
Trying to make sense of everything.
"What the actual hell?!" he hollered at only himself
As if chasing an answer—or running from the growing madness—he ran after her. Through the door and into the light.
Ding!
He stopped himself.
The old man did say the place was a gym. Crane found himself on the first floor, at the entrance. The usual equipment around him; punching bags, a ring in the middle.
And then there were the people.
Normal-looking people.
No glowing 'prey'. No infected stumbling with bloodied jaws. Just ordinary men and women going about their routines, chatting, stretching, throwing jabs at punching bags.
Crane's body tensed, every instinct screaming at him to run back the way he came—a monster in the gym. But his legs refused to move.
How long could this dream keep going?
The sound of a door opening came from above. He glanced to the second floor, where the old man leaned comfortably on the railing. The brunette joined him a second later.
"Well, well," Jack began with a grin. "Isn't that-"
"Hm-hm," Mert confirmed. "Jade Aldemir. In my gym."
Crane's heart stopped cold.
He spun too fast on his heels, letting the emotions overwhelm him.
At the punching bags was a dark-haired woman, much younger than Crane remembered, practicing her jabs. A 'new face' to the gym.
To Crane, however, he couldn't believe it was her.
It only confirmed to him that everything was a dream. That he convinced himself this was a cruel joke—a fabrication of his guilt, conjured to haunt him.
But the longer he watched, the harder it was to deny.
"Jade," he whimpered.
And as if to twist the knife buried deep in his chest, his eyes caught on another figure sitting nearby. Someone with his back turned, hunched over.
Another person he recognized.
Crane stumbled forward, his body moving before his mind could catch up. One step. Two steps.
"Think she came here to see her competitor?"
The brunette's voice stopped him, prompting him again to look up.
There was a spark of intrigued curiosity in her expression, eyes on the young fighter below. Attentive to each punch hitting the punching bag.
Now Jack understood the reason for her manager's inquisitiveness. It wasn't just any random person walking into Mert's gym after all.
Anyone in the next of the kickboxing woods wouldn't know about a rising star climbing through the ranks, faster than most rookies Jack had seen over the years. And to every seasoned fighter out there, even Jack herself, Aldemir was only a rookie.
Until the end of last year, she had fought and triumphed against the Oni.
The Oni—Japan's fearsome demon in the ring. Jack had fought him twice, so she knew the gauge of his power. And now this 'rookie' has finally made her way to the upcoming Global Trial Championship this year.
Where she would inevitably face the Wild Dog, four-time world champion.
Quite frankly, Jack had thought she would cross paths with the young kickboxer next year, but not so soon. Yet that achievement showed the lass's great velocity. As well as her audacity—coming to Jack's turf like that.
It actually brought a grin to the Wild Dog.
"As long as she's paying, she's welcomed." Mert took a deep puff of his recently lit cigarette. He trailed his gaze from the young fighter to the unstoppable champion next to him.
There was a certain glint he spotted in the brunette's gaze. He had seen all sorts of smiles out of her—the wicked grin of her Mad Jack persona or the confident smirk she reserved for anyone outside the ring.
This time, however, Jack had a sense of calmness in her expression.
Maybe a reminiscence of her past? Or a friendly slice of envy for something she couldn't have...
"Why don't you go introduce yourself?"
The grin was gone, slapped right off. Jack raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Really? Just like that?"
"You're going head-to-head in the next match anyway. All about good sportsmanship."
"Spying on your opponent at her manager's gym isn't what I'd call 'good sportsmanship,' Mert."
"She's daring. Just like you."
"Pft, please." The confidence returned, tenfold. "She beat Oni. The most infamous kickboxer in the East. Before me, of course."
"Hm."
"That doesn't mean she's ready for me. Lass got a long way to go."
"I agree with you there... But she could surprise you. Or it could be the other way around."
The other way around? Jack gave him shade with one look but the old man stood as firm as an oak tree.
"Talk to her," he said calmly. "Nothing wrong with a little chit-chat between athletes."
Mert was sure that was enough coaxing—he could see the internal debate playing out in the brunette. He knew full well she wasn't one to open up easily, much less the one to instigate 'normal conversations'.
With a slap on the railing, she gave in and headed for the stairs.
"Behave yourself."
"Since when have I ever behaved?" Jack chided with a wave of her arms.
Cocky, just like Aldemir.
Mert snorted softly, hiding a small cough behind his hand as Jack descended the metal stairs.
Her gaze stayed locked on her new rival below—a fighter at least ten years her junior.
The younger woman wasn't alone. Just outside the punching area sat a much younger man, possibly still in high school or just edging into college. The resemblance was clear—same facial structure, same dark hair. But the eyes? Different.
Jack guessed he was her younger brother.
That said, the lad wasn't here for training. Not only was he scrawny—the builders could easily pick him up and toss him out the door—but he was in his own world, full attention on his music player. Listening to loud, unbearable din that peaked out of his headphones.
Did he lose a sibling argument and was dragged here? Jack knew that feeling well—she'd had her fair share of spiteful moments with her cousin.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Jack found someone in her way. Standing too close to the entrance, the figure blocked her path. She didn't break stride, dodging around them with a polite, "Excuse me." And the stranger compelled with a step back.
Still, Jack glanced up briefly at the stranger. After all, he stood in the way, far too long than he should have.
Crane thought she had finally noticed him. Someone in the dream saw him as real as they were.
Or maybe she just saw him as another new face loitering around the gym.
Up close, he saw her pretty hazel-blue eyes shimmering under the light from the gym's fixtures and stray beams of sunlight.
Noticing him. Judging. Maybe trying to start something with him on a competitive level.
Telling Kyle that he wasn't the main character in this dream-state story.
Then his gaze changed targets, drawn on the younger kickboxer and brother. Grief seized him again, tightly. Kyle feared he could shatter the illusion if he'd moved one step.
And lose them all over again.
He wasn't aware that his endless stare got Jack to follow it to the end, especially when he looked so awfully sad.
The stranger was an odd one, indeed. His attire was just all wrong for a gym—the hooded hobo look clearly was unsuitable for any serious training. She had a mind to tell him to leave quickly if he wasn't there for the gym. Mert didn't like window-watchers and freeloaders.
Jack glanced back at the one thing he had been looking at with so much concentration; the young kickboxer and her brother. Maybe both of them. Then she looked back at the stranger one more time, continuing her way to the practice area.
Did he know them?
Now that Jack thought over it…was there supposed to be a guy standing by the entrance?
That wasn't how she remembered, but she shook the thought away, choosing to ignore him. Like he never existed in the first place.
The hooligan wasn't the main act—the new rookie was.
Jade's movements were precise and methodical., favoring hook kicks. Jack had heard about her signature move, a butterfly kick with the speed and sting of a scorpion's tail.
She spotted a peek from the rookie now and then, clearly aware of the older woman's scrutiny. But Jade didn't falter, her focus on the punching bag.
What, trying to one-up me? Jack thought. Tempting-
"You know you're being a creep, right?"
The sharp voice made her glance down, meeting the young lad's eyes. Shooting a hard look that warned her to back off; one speaker off a ear. It lasted only a second before his green eyes returned to his phone, the screen lighting up with tiny explosions and colorful visuals.
Oooh, so he's the overprotective little brother, Jack mused, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.
Jack didn't step back... How could she play around with this piece of information?
"Oh, I was only admiring the view. Figured I can ask for her number while I'm at it."
His green eyes widened, and he shot to his feet, the wrong idea plastered all over his face. How cute.
"H-Hang on!" he barked angrily. "You...you're not her type."
"Oh? She has a type?" Her gaze was planted on the lass, just to make the youngster get even more riled out. "Strong legs. Good flexibility. Intense stamina… and she knows how to pace it."
Jack did one final blow: leaning closer to the boy's ear with a soft whisper.
"I can take her."
That did it.
The lad's face turned beet red, hand clutched over his ear as he yanked his headphones off. The unspoken idea of some random ass stranger trying to hit on his sister sent him into a silent, fuming spiral. Didn't matter if a guy or girl, it still was his sister!
He stammered. "Wha - you - now hold on a second here!"
Jack held in a chuckle, as hard as she could.
Oh, she was going to have so much fun with this anklebiter.
All she had done was point out the rookie's skills. And the poor boy's imagination simply filled in the gaps, his outburst drawing in a few glances.
"Y-You! You don't get to date my sister! She's off-limits! Period!"
"Really, now?" Jack teased.
"Yes! Really!" he hissed.
"Well, that's not possible, lad. Not with our appointment coming up this year."
"What?!" His head snapped up, lost with words. "Since when?!"
"Rahim."
Finally, someone intervened to save the poor lad, firm and annoyed. The younger woman stepped into the conversation, positioning herself between Jack and her flustered brother, her discontented expression towards him.
"You can be so dense sometimes." She then turned her attention to Jack, fixing her with a steady, no-nonsense look. "You're Jack Brecken."
Jack smirked, casually holding her palms up—the gig was up. "Guilty as charged."
The young kickboxer didn't flinch, no signs of shock and awe in the presence of a champion. She had faced gods in her previous matches.
Her brother, however, was a different story.
At the mention of the name and Jack commending to it, Rahim froze. Shoulders hunched up as his wide eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.
The Wild Dog? This was her?
He had heard the stories—the more aggressive side of her. But he had never taken a moment to look up what the Wild Dog looked like from the news. Not once did it cross his mind.
Without realizing it, Rahim had just mouthed off to a kickboxing world champion.
Now the little rabbit was in for it.
"Don't worry yourself," Jack said casually, noting his nervousness. "I get that all the time."
That seemed to calm the boy down. Sorta. He was in the shadow of a legend.
"I thought Jack was a guy's name," Rahim blurted out.
Jade groaned and glared at him for the embarrassment. "Really?"
Jack shrugged. "Never liked my real name. Nobody would take me serious as a child."
"Ugh. I know the feeling," her rival groaned. So she had been ridiculed for a feminine name in her childhood.
"For what it's worth," Jack said, turning back to the tense boy, who flinched at the worrisome thought she was going to punch him, "it's admirable, standing up for your sister like that. The world needs more people like you."
The compliment was encouraging, warm enough to bring the boy back out of his timidness. Rahim was about to say something with a growing smirk when his sister took over the conversation.
"I wouldn't call it admirable. I'm the one cleaning up his messes."
"Jade!" Rahim wheeled back toward Jack, as if desperate to salvage his image. "She's kidding…! I don't get into trouble!"
Jack couldn't hold back her laughter, louder than intended, and extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you both. Rahim. Jade Aldemir."
"So you know?" Jade asked, shaking Jack's hand with a firm, confident grip. Rahim followed with a weaker but earnest one.
"Who doesn't know? You've made quite a name for yourself this past year," Jack began. "Fastest kickboxer to reach the finals. Bloody impressive, if you ask me… How was Eijun in the last match?"
"What else. He never saw that twist coming…" Jade exclaimed, almost smug.
There was a slight pause, the rookie visibly aiming to give credit where it was due then making herself out to be a jerk.
"He was a good fighter."
"Sounds about right. Old chap isn't called the Oni for nothing." Then Jack shifted gears. "So. What's a rising star doing in this neck of the woods?"
"Well. I wanted to check you out," Jade said, following after Jack's earlier ruse. "You are my competitor."
"Fair enough," Jack chided. "And have you learned anything from me?"
Jade folded her arms, her expression shifting to a thoughtful, almost stern gaze.
"You're not what they say on TV," she admitted, which actually prompted a nod of acknowledgment from Jack. "Everyone made you out to be some madwoman in person."
"You're not alone on that one," Rahim mumbled under his breath, just enough for the brunette to hear the poorly concealed jab.
Jack sighed. This again?
"Come now. That's all for show," she explained, pragmatic. "You give the audience what they want, and they'll lap it up every time. You of all people should know that."
Jade gave a quiet nod of agreement, her arms still folded.
"If I were nice and composed all the time, imagine how bad it'd look for my reputation."
"True… Kind of disappointing," Jade exclaimed.
Jack blinked; odd thing to say. "That I can't be a normal person outside the ring?"
"Please. I've got a life too." Jade now had an arrogant gleam in her dark eyes. "I was just thinking it's a real shame that Wild Dog's not everything I thought she was."
Jack's smile stayed in place, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she processed the remark. "Excuse me?"
"Jade. What are you doing?" The nervousness snaked out of Rahim's mouth. But his sister didn't listen.
"You're acting like a proper lady in front of her opponent. Who does that?"
Jack's brow furrowed even more. "Proper lady?" Was she one?
"I didn't come here to be nice, kiss cheeks, and then leave." The young kickboxer narrowed the distance between her and the champion. Eye to eye. "I came to see Wild Dog herself. In action."
Oooh, she knew exactly where this was going.
"Ahahaha. No," Jack declined politely, which brought a frown on Jade's face. "We're already scheduled to fight next year."
"Yeah. But I came here to prepare myself," Jade countered. "Get to know my opponent better."
Ok, Jack would give her that. The young rookie had indeed the fire the public was praising. She wasn't just here for show; she wanted to feel the heat of a fight.
And honestly, Jack wouldn't mind seeing what this rising star was made of either.
But one problem stopped her, hidden from the two youngsters, Mert and everyone else in the gym: her bruises from yesterday's coup. They haven't healed overnight. Still in yesterday's clothes, with aches and pains that sleeping on a couch had only worsened.
If she were to accept the proposal, she'd only regret it the next morning.
So she had to decline. Without declining.
"Patience makes the reward sweeter," Jack tried to divert the conversation. "We'd end up boring each other before the real show."
"Oh, please," Jade scoffed. "You're not the patient type."
"Well…you aren't wrong," Jack grumbled softly, being called out like that.
"Three minutes. Everything goes."
Wow. She doesn't know when to quit.
But Jack knew when to fold, as Mert had told her.
"As much as I admire your guts, this grown-up has a tight schedule today. It's been a pleasure, Jade. Rahim."
She ended it there, as any proper adult would. But she'd barely taken a couple of steps when-
"What? Wild Dog's chicken?"
Oh.
She did not just go there. That insult put its grubby paws squarely on Jack's shoulders, refusing to let go. Slowly, she turned back to see Jade's bold, taunting smile and the restless wave of her gloved hands.
A low laugh crept out of the pro's mouth.
"Oh, oh," Jack started, flashing a toothy grin. "You're gonna eat those words, little princess."
Jade smirked with a toss of her chin at her. "Show me, then. All I've heard is all bark."
A chorus of "oooohs" rippled through the gym as nearby onlookers stopped to watch the tension escalate. Rahim was the only one who stepped back—he wasn't stupid enough to jump between his crazy sister and a pit bull.
He wanted to go home.
Jack glanced up at Mert, still at his usual spot, cigarette in hand. With a lazy wave of smoke, he gave his approval.
Good.
The invisible chains loosened. Jack's grin widened, sharpening into something feral.
The crowd began to gather around the patched-up boxing ring in the center, eager to witness a match of a lifetime while the two titles took to their respective corners, getting ready.
Like watching a rare National Geographic episode between a venomous arachnid and a hungry stray dog back to its natural roots. Both animals put themselves into a hole to take a gander and fight.
Only the little hare, Rahim, sunk further away from the crowd, wishing he could disappear entirely and the patient bull, Mert, watched attentively from above.
Quiet bets were exchanged in the background. Would the scorpion's sting take Jack down? Or would the wolf sink her teeth into Jade's neck?
The atmosphere buzzed with excitement.
Jack ignored their ramblings. She wanted to see all of Rookie's moves displayed and examined with a fine-tooth comb. The aches in her joints still lingered, but nothing cured yesterday's pins and needles like a good fight.
Both fighters took their stances. A few shakes to loosen up, some light footwork, testing the waters.
And then the bell rang.
DING!
Jade struck first—a fast right jab. Jack deflected it with her forearm. Then came the left, and again, she blocked with ease. The rookie wasn't holding back, throwing more power into her punches with each swing.
Jack, on the other hand, stayed patient, taking her time.
"What are you holding back for?" Jade taunted. "Aren't you supposed to be rabid?!"
She fired another barrage of jabs. Jack took them with her blocks.
The rookie had misread Jack's intention; she was gauging how far Jade was willing to go. Going on the defense only riled her opponent up.
"Your bark's worse than your bite?!" Jade hollered, sweeping a low kick.
Too early.
Jack sidestepped gracefully, like a wolf dodging a trap, and countered with a swift hook that caught Jade by surprise.
So Aldemir didn't want to be babied? Fine, show her that she was on the same level as Jack.
Show me.
The rookie staggered but recovered quickly, returning the favor. Two more punches landed by the hound, each deflected by Jack's block.
"I'm just getting started, rookie," Jack sang, her voice laced with a playful ferocity.
Second-stage foam. Now the teeth were ready to bear down, even with the chain on. But the rookie didn't shudder. In fact, she shone a light beam back.
Good. Jack didn't want to see fear.
Bouncing on her toes, Jack pressed forward, firing a flurry of punches. Jade didn't back down; instead, she darted through the gaps in Jack's attacks, countering with sharp jabs of her own.
Most opponents Jack had faced would keep their distance after such a fury. But this one? She was different. Jack could see it in her eyes—the rookie wasn't afraid. She was here to go the distance, no matter who came out on top.
That's what I like to see.
A rush of adrenaline surged through Jack. Give it your all, Rookie!
Jade swept a kick at Jack, but Jack's elbow snapped down, deflecting it with ease. She shoved Jade's leg away, throwing the younger fighter off balance to the floor.
"That was a dirty move!" Jade shot back onto her feet.
"Hey, this isn't even an official match. Why follow the rules?"
The younger girl let a quiet, excited laugh, and her fists were back up. The spark in her eyes said it all, "oh, I'm gonna like this."
Left, right, left, right. The crowd roared louder with every move. Now and then, Rahim mimicked weaker forms of Jade's hooks, hyping himself up for his sister's victory. Out of the boisterous audience, Mert didn't move an inch from his perch, but the excitement from the match below slowly etched a smile into his wrinkled face.
Both women didn't stop, their spirits burning as big as the cheers around them. But Jack felt her stamina slipping. She'd underestimated how much last night's ordeal had drained her, and the rookie was gaining ground fast.
Shit. Fine timing for the tables to turn.
Jade seized the opening, launching her signature move—her leg arcing up and slicing down like a scorpion's tail.
Jack dodged it, her arms parried it off just as it went down. The rookie had left herself open—Jack crouched low, her body coiling like a wolf ready for the strike, and fired upward with canines.
An uppercut.
Jade staggered back—only to be met with a front kick that sent her fumbling, her balance faltering.
"Oh, c'mon. It wasn't that bad!" Jack teased, closing in on the young woman-
Suddenly, Jade lashed out.
"Whoa!" That was teeth! Trying to take a big chunk out of Jack! "What the-"
A huffed growl made Jack glance up.
Jade's healthy complexion was gone. Her body contorted, twisted unnaturally. Her eyes were white and hollow, her skin blistered with darkened veins snaking along its surface.
It was like she'd stepped out of one of those zombie movies.
When did the Harran Virus hit the Outskirts?
"J-Jade?" What just happened?
"You left me to die…"
"What?" Jack blinked, confused.
"You left me to die, Kyle!"
Jack's heart raced.
"Jade! Snap out of it! W-Who's Kyle?!" Some ex-boyfriend?
"Youleftmetodieyouleftmetodieyouleftmetodie!"
The words spilled out in a guttural, frenzied chant. Everything about the scene felt like a surreal nightmare—unreal, unfamiliar, uncontrollable.
Jack stumbled back, the so-called Wild Dog with her tail firmly tucked between her legs. The script had veered wildly off course, the climactic moment hijacked by some last-minute twist from a cruel, unseen director.
And at the drop of a pin, the climax hit its peak.
"GAAAAARGH!" the young kickboxer screamed.
"Shit!" Jack cursed. She bolted out of the ring. "Shit! Shit!"
"Gaarrgh!"
And suddenly, she was surrounded.
Everyone.
Rahim. Mert. The gym members.
They were all infected.
The day Harran fell, everything changed forever. It happened right outside the local gym.
Wait! No! That wasn't right! It wouldn't happen for three more years. The virus was a slow burn, building over weeks, not erupting into an infestation in seconds!
But did that matter now?
Jack booked for the main entrance, weaving left and right to dodge the swinging arms and snapping teeth.
Run. Run!
They wanted her dead. They wanted her to join them. Everyone was gone. And Jade—twisted, feral Jade—was right behind her, fingers clawing at the tips of Jack's hair.
Jack had to get out. She had to escape.
But there was no escape from the virus. It was already inside her.
Run! RUN!
Giving up had never been in Jack's vocabulary. She barreled toward the gym doors, shoving them wide open in a desperate burst—
—and was blinded by the harsh, white light outside.
Jack stumbled to a halt, gasping for air. No snarls. No claws reaching for her. No Jade. Nothing.
The gym was gone. The noise was gone. Everything was gone.
Except him.
The hooded man from before stood ahead of her, his back turned. Trembling. His hands covering his ears as he rocked slightly, muttering something.
"Sorry… I'm sorry…"
The stranger looked so tortured. As if mourning for the dead.
"Who-" The question died on Jack's lips. Before her hand could reach his shoulder, the man slowly wheeled around with a vocal click.
Click,
click,
click.
Under the hood, the face of the Day Hunter stared back at her
"RAARGH!"
All she saw was the flash of the canines digging into her neck.
CHOMP!
"Gaaph!" Jack bolted upright, gasping for air. Her chest heaved, and sweat dripped down her face as she darted her eyes around.
No, she was in the trailer. In Scanderoon. Remember? She crashed there.
Not at Mert's gym. Not at the Outskirts. Not in the past.
She slumped back in her sleeping bag, clutching her neck. Where the freakazoid had tried to rip her throat.
Breathe in. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4, with her fingers counting down. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out.
Rinse and repeat.
Again and again, until finally, the tightness in her chest began to loosen, and she wiped the beads of sweat from her temple.
"Hell's bells." It had been a while since she'd had a dream like that—a twisted trip down memory lane, derailing into Nightmare Ville.
That was most definitely not how the memory ended.
Maybe she had gotten one too many blows to the head that her memories were jumbled. She didn't give that 'freakazoid' enough credit for being such a worthy opponent.
Her mind clawed back to the dream. Jade. Rahim. Mert.
It's been so long since she had seen them…
So that fear of seeing Jade, infected, coming back to Jack-
"Enough," she snapped at herself, pushing away those intrusive thoughts. "They're fine. Everyone at the Tower is fine."
She shoved the unsettling feeling far down. As far as possible.
"You'll see them soon," she said, louder this time, as if the volume might make it true. "...All of them."
She inhaled deeply.
"Yes! You'll see them… Now get off your arse and get back to work."
Jack pushed herself up, her body immediately protesting with sharp, needling pain. She groaned. Why the bloody hell does it feel like I got hit by a car-
Oh. Right. She'd gone one-on-one with a Special.
Again, Jack tried forcing herself up and walking the agony off her muscles. The recent bites were still pretty bad that she had to rebandage them before covering them up with her sleeves. No one at the Junction should see the kind of night she had; they'd worry too much.
Alright. She grabbed the doorknob. Let's see what fresh hell today has in store.
"Arrrrgh… I hate mornings."
The sunlight welcomed her, glaring and unforgiving, as it compelled her to put on her shades. She should have been used to it by now. But nooo, her eyes just hated the sun.
Another day alive in the city of the dead. No rich tea or buttered toast to start the morning, just the stench of rotting flesh and smoke wafting through the pandemic's aftermath.
For most, the absence of normalcy would slowly gnaw them down, the desperate need for escape gnawing at them until they broke.
But for Jack? She'd learned to adapt.
She inhaled deeply—and immediately choked on the horrible air.
The acrid smell from last night lingered, burning her nostrils. Her gaze fell to the source: the charred remains of a Volatile slumped next to the door.
"Blagh… Rancid."
Let the next safehouse occupant deal with it. Cleanup duty wasn't her problem.
She should head back to the Junction. Surely, Siv had more work to give her to add for her list. Speaking of which…
She patted herself down… Did she drop her phone-
Cla-clink!
The sound of many pieces knocking each other stopped her mid-search and made her look at her feet. On the ground was a small bundle wrapped in cloth.
The cloth looked oddly familiar. Torn and dirty, like it had seen better days.
Was this here last night?
She tapped it with her toe, half expecting it to move—or explode. When nothing happened, Jack knelt down and unwrapped the bundle.
"Now why do we have here?"
First, it wasn't some some grotesque organ or an improvised bomb like she envisioned. But it had her phone, scratched and battered more than usual—likely from last night's chase. But why was it wrapped like a present?
And there was more.
Craft parts, gauze, and an assortment of supplies—everything a survivor would need. The gift hamper was too perfect— as though someone had read her mind and prepared exactly what she needed.
Someone had picked up her phone, pried into it, and put this basket together.
Someone came to the safehouse.
Jack's eyes swept her surroundings for her unknown visitor. But they were probably long gone by now.
Or were they still nearby?
The thought made her jaw tighten. How cunning, frankly rude and most of all, unsettling.
Friend or foe?
The silence offered no answers.
Beep!
The buzz of a call pulled Jack out of her thoughts.
Alright, she'd bookmarked the mystery of her nighttime visitor for another time. She straightened up, brushing off the stiffness in her shoulders, and answered the comms with her usual flamboyant flair.
"Mad Jack, professional retrieval expert speaking. How may I help you-"
"JACK! Oh my god! Jack, you're still alive!" the young voice suddenly boomed into her eardrum. Jack had to take the earpiece out for a second.
Who knew someone else could holler just as hysterically loud as Bones?
The voice on the other end pulled back slightly, still frantic. "She's alive! I told you she was alright!"
"Whoa, Siv! Come back to the mic and tell me where the fire is." What rattled the young teen's cage so badly? "I haven't disappeared off the face of the map now, have I?"
Jack could hear the dear girl's chair move anxiously. Whatever happened, the runner must have thought that the worst had come to the invincible ex-kickboxer, to the point where she was lost for words.
"Y-You - they told me - that Hunter and the bag-"
"You're not making any sense here, princess. Start over. What happened?"
"Where do I even begin?!" Siv groaned.
Ok, it really was that bad, Jack thought to herself.
"We thought you got killed last night."
"Of course not. I'm at the safehouse, remember-"
"That's what we thought too. Then Fazil and Orhan came in around three. They had this bag. And, and, it was stuff the locals sent for you, right?!"
"I'm sorry. Who and who? And what bag?"
"Just come back to the Junction!" the young girl howled with frustration. "You can see it for yourself."
The line cut off, leaving Jack feeling more puzzled than ever. But she might as well head back; actions spoke louder than words.
Moreover, she had to show everyone that "Hey, I lived a night outside, and I'm still here. So what's today's job?". Reassure Siv one more time that Jack was very much alive. The people of the Junction were a bunch of jittery people, after all.
The grim news of a newly-joined member's death could tank morale.
"Clocktower."
She remembered what Mahir had told her, prompting her to take to the high grounds, pinpoint the landmark and search.
"And there's the Junction."
Sure enough, Jack spotted the familiar tops of the Junction, northeast, seven streets away from the overpass.
If she had taken a turn at the last street during last night's chase, she could've gone straight back to the gates. At least the morning was quieter, with fewer Biters out and about.
In no time flat, Jack was back in the Junction Safe Zone. The welcoming was, of course, slate and unnoticed; nobody wanted to be attached to anyone who left the grounds, especially someone like her, infected and teetering on the edge.
Which was understandable to Jack.
A few comments reached her ears, though—one from the quartermaster, another from a few passerbys—expressing mild surprise that she'd survived her first night outside.
It was business as usual, although under grim circumstances.
At least one person was glad to see Jack alive and well. A Runner rushed toward her, green and black sneakers squeaking across the tiled floor of the foyer.
"Jack!" Siv cried, her face lighting up with relief.
But as quickly as her pace picked up, it slowed. The worried frown eventually transformed into an angrier one by the time she reached Jack.
"Don't do that to me again! You really scared everyone here."
Now that's a lie, Jack thought, but she held her tongue.
"I haven't done anything, and already, I'm outed as a criminal. What exactly did I do wrong?"
"No, it's not that. It's just…" Siv hesitated, overstepping the line with her outburst. She exhumed out an apologetic sigh. "Sorry. I found out about it an hour ago. And you weren't picking up your comms."
"I was pretty out from last night's run, hon," Jack replied, her tone light but reassuring. "And there was that fistfight."
"Wait. What fistfight?" A little shock and awe crept back into Siv's face.
"Don't fret about it," Jack assured her with a wide, satisfied grin. "I'm alive and well."
She patted herself, showing she was physical. Not a ghost.
"Alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah." Siv aggressively nodded. "Sure."
"Now. Tell me what happened so we can sort this mess out. I've still got that list to finish-"
"Uh, Jack? Yeah, somebody's already finished most of your list."
Jack frowned, her sunglasses slipping down her nose to reveal narrowed, wry eyes. She blinked a couple of times, clearly not on the same page as Siv.
"I'm sorry. What do you mean someone finished it?"
"I thought you were being real ballsy last night. You know, doing night errands."
That would've been a triumph she would gladly claim, but Jack knew better. "Where did you get that idea?"
Siv opened her mouth to respond but stopped, holding back the barrage of words threatening to spill out. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before starting from the top.
"Last night, we had two runners split off from B-Team during a drop search. They were supposed to head to a safehouse, but… they got jumped by Alexander's men."
"Alexander?" Jack repeated.
"The prisoners' leader. The one running things over at the penitentiary."
"And these runners are alright?"
"Fazil-" Siv bit her lower lip. "His leg's in bad shape, but Doc's finishing the surgery. Orhan… He's-"
"Still shaken from last night," Jack finished for her, the knowing edge in her voice hinting at Orhan's state.
Physically or mentally, it didn't matter. She'd seen it before.
"Not just from the thugs... They also had a Hunter come by their safehouse."
Jack hadn't seen what a Hunter was yet, to fully share everyone's fear of it. Even without seeing one, she could piece together enough: a Hunter was something terrifying, enough to strike dread into the locals.
It spelled trouble—just like every other infected, but worse.
"That's unlucky," was all Jack muttered. Poor boy's mind must be hanging by a thread.
"Depends how you look at it." Siv's cryptic response caught Jack off guard but before she could ask questions, the young Runner continued. "You need to hear it from him."
Siv led the way, bringing Jack to the sickbay. Where she would find her answers.
Outside the sickbay was a trembling figure—a young man, taller than Siv and likely older by a few years, sat curled up against the wall with arms around his legs.
Orhan.
Jack took a peek through the open door, spotting Hadya tending to a man on the cot. His left leg was heavily bandaged—likely Fazil.
If Jack had to guess, Orhan had been there since he arrived, rocking back and forth.
"Orhan?" Siv was cautious, almost afraid that one sudden move could startle the lad and give him a heart attack. Even her steps were so small and quiet. "This is the newcomer I was talking about."
But the lad didn't stir. So Siv wheeled back to Jack.
"This is Orhan... He's from B-Team."
Jack said nothing back. Siv thought her bright, sarcastic, dynamic personality would help crack through the tension. But the ex-kickboxer remained silent, her sharp eyes fixed on the young man.
Orhan's expression wasn't unfamiliar to Jack—she'd seen it too many times. His gaze stayed glued to the floor, fingers clenched so tightly they'd turned white.
It wasn't just fear etched into his face.
It was guilt.
"Orhan," Siv tried again. "Can you tell her what you saw?"
All of a sudden, Jack sat down on the floor, slouched arms resting on her knees, next to Orhan. A surprise to Siv but she kept quiet.
Because there were no witty one-liners, no sarcasm—just quiet, grounding presence.
She didn't push or prod. Jack simply waited, her unreadable gaze on Orhan as if keeping watch. Ready to catch him if he were to crumble.
Finally, the young adult stirred, as if breaking the surface of deep, dangerous waters. He noticed her.
His lips trembled as he began. "...W-We were ambushed… T-They destroyed our safehouse. Wanted us dead… W-Wanted me to spy on the Junction."
Siv frowned angrily. Dirty, rotten creeps.
"Then t-this Hunter jumped out of nowhere... K-Killed them all."
There was no reaction from Jack. She patiently took in every word. And it compelled Orhan to continue; swallowing hard.
"It...It gave me this bag. J-Just like that. F-Fazil managed to fend it off and we ran back to the Junction…"
Again, nothing from the woman in red. No jokes, no comforting words—none of the platitudes the other adults often used to sugarcoat horrors or offer false assurances. Orhan couldn't even see her expression behind her shades, and somehow, that made it easier.
Jack simply listened. And the quieter she was, the more he opened up.
He was almost ready to burst out crying.
"Hey, it's..." Siv started and trailed off. He wasn't back in the nightmare but she wasn't good with words either.
Jack made the first move before Siv could figure out what to say. Her hand slipped onto Orhan's and gave it a firm squeeze.
"Take your time," Jack said softly.
And that was all it took. The first tears out of him in a long time.
"...I...it's my fault. I left B-Team to go after that drop."
Siv glanced at him, at first, shocked. But she said nothing—she didn't want to show her disappointment over a broken rule.
"The prisoners got to it first and... I thought I could get back," he whimpered with his head down. "Fazil...he's my brother. He found out I left and followed after me... But those men...they hurt him because of me."
A boy who wanted to be a hero. Jack had seen it countless times before.
"Orhan," Siv started. She wanted to say it wasn't his fault. She had a lot of things she wanted to say. But Jack's subtle shake of the head stopped her.
She placed a finger to her lips, silently signaling Siv to hold back. Orhan was too consumed by his grief and guilt to hear reassurances. Being told it wasn't anyone's fault wouldn't change the past. The young lad was back to shaking like a leaf, his grip even tighter than earlier.
"I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
He wouldn't listen to any excuse.
"...It's scary."
Jack's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Her patience chirped down the anguish bit by bit, freeing Orhan as he slowly raised his head back up again.
"Being in a situation like that… It's terrifying…"
The brunette took her shades off and locked her gaze onto Orhan's. A gaze he couldn't and didn't turn away.
"But you made it home. You and Fazil. You're both here, alive."
Her words landed like an anchor, grounding him in the present. A reminder. A truth.
He was alive. Fazil was alive. No one in the Junction judged him for his mistakes. They weren't killed back at the safehouse. And he didn't need to keep the emotions inside.
That was the whole truth.
"You did good, lad," Jack said. "You did good."
Orhan's slow nods were still shaking. But his head was again heavy from the big tears swelling up again. He sniffled, fighting them, but Jack's compassionate gaze told him to let it all out.
No one would fault him for it and an older woman convinced him.
The first sobs came out loud.
Siv couldn't believe it. After everything Orhan had witnessed—his mind cracked under the weight of it all—she had thought he would struggle to pull himself back together. He wasn't the first.
In the three months, she has seen men and women break down. Losing it. Unable to stand up. Even their feet had failed them.
Suddenly, someone outside their small community gave a hand to the Runner—the same person everyone in the Junction said was notorious in the ring. The same person they thought would die on the first night outside.
"Better?"
Orhan couldn't stop nodding so quickly, then gradually.
"Alright." Jack then noticed Hadya standing in the doorway. "I think someone's waiting to see you."
With wide eyes, Orhan turned to see Hadya giving him a smile and a nod. Then at someone behind the pulled white curtains, on the cott.
Orhan almost flew into the sickbay. He had the apologetic speech ready in his head to give, but the moment he reached the bedside, his words came out broken and, finally, silent when Fazil held him tight with a forgiving smile.
Siv stood by, watching the rare moment unfold. A happy moment. A rarity in the Junction.
Three months of everything gone so wrong and nobody had caught a real break.
She had wanted to have the airdrop brought to the Junction. So that the mood could finally change.
But this?
This was good too.
In the Junction, it had become a common, harsh courtesy to acknowledge someone as dead if they didn't return. Few had the bravery—or the energy—to do more.
Siv was no exception.
She didn't know how to handle those situations, especially when she was wrestling with her own struggles.
Still, as she watched the reunion between Fazil and Orhan, a soft smile crossed her face. Hands in her pockets, she glanced at the ex-kickboxer beside her.
Growing up, Siv had always thought adults had all the answers. That they didn't need to listen to someone young like her. They didn't have time to worry about the 'small stuff' before the outbreak. Then she looked back at Jack.
The older woman stood with a soft grin on her face, hands in pockets, and a satisfied gaze at the reunion between the two runners.
Jack's certainty was infectious.
"What are you? Some kind of therapist?"
It took Jack by surprise at first, but she simply jeered. "Please. I'm no miracle worker. I'm just good at pretending I know what I'm doing."
"Really?" Siv found that sentence a bit odd. She couldn't put her finger on why.
"Sometimes, everyone needs someone to listen. No need to bottle emotions up," she explained. She then walked off and Siv followed—leaving Fazil and Orhan to catch up in peace. "Leads to dumb decisions if you don't get it off your chest."
"...Is that why you enjoy fighting?"
Jack hunched an eyebrow, glancing at the lass. "So, you're a mind reader now?"
Still, she didn't shy away from answering. "I guess… I needed another way to deal with it. A little fix to get through the day."
"Never peg you to have a troubled past."
Jack laughed softly.
"Not really troubled. Just…trying to figure out who I was as a person. 'Everyone starts with dirty hands'," she recited her old manager's quote.
"Well...what you did back there? Thanks. You really helped Orhan."
"He helped himself. I was simply there for him."
It was an honest remark, a side Siv never thought the brunette would have. This was the same woman who once tried to negotiate with GRE soldiers by holding a bomb in her hand and tried to square off a Special. Alone.
So the ex-kickboxer actually had a gentle side to her…
Nobody's going to believe me if I tell them about this, Siv thought. Not even Will, who was practically Jack's number-one fan.
"Now. Back to the main topic." Jack clapped her hands together, turning to Siv.
She thought long and hard over what her next sentence should be.
"...A freak of nature just handed them the stuff I was hired to collect?" Jack blurted it out.
Right, what Siv was trying to explain to her earlier. Even she found it far more implausible than the few loose screws in the brunette's head. "That's what they said. We figured the bag was yours."
"That explains why you were being hysterical earlier."
"Can you blame me? A monster attacked your safehouse and then took off with your stuff?"
"This day keeps getting better and better."
"Hey, they're not lying. They've been through a lot-"
"Wasn't implying anything. I'm more concerned about this 'freakazoid'," Jack explained her thought process. "An infected carrying around a bag of goods is strange as it is but giving it to living people? That's not normal."
"You're right about that. That thing could have killed Fazil and Orhan. But it just left them. That's the weirdest part."
How oddly nice and neatly connected the pieces were that Jack couldn't dismiss it for just coincidence.
"You know..." she started. "They might not be the only ones who got an unexpected present. Someone left me one at my doorstep last night. It's not even my birthday."
An uncomfortable thing to hear for Siv that she wrapped her arms tighter, feeling a chill down her spine. "They said this thing is like nothing they'd ever seen... You don't think it's the same Hunter we saw at the chapel, do you?"
That thought did cross Jack's mind. So she answered honestly, "I don't know. But there's been a lot of strange things happening since we met Freakazoid."
"So what? The thing has brain damage that it can't decide whether it wants to kill or not?"
"Hah!" The laugh came out unnaturally brash to the young runner but Jack didn't care. "Oh, sure. An infected zombie can have a personality disorder. Why not?"
Ok. Siv had to agree that notion was stupid. A walker with brain damage that doesn't eat human brains.
"Everyone's been on edge with this one," Siv explained. "Even Mahir's telling people to stay on high alert. Says it sounds unpredictable."
"Oh. I fully agree. Which is why I'm going to check this out."
Wait. Did she hear that right?
"Stop joking around, Jack. This thing's too dangerous to go after it."
"You don't," Jack replied, stepping closer with a wide, confident grin. "But I can."
Siv hunched her brow at the cocky woman.
"Ok, now you're talking out of your ass."
Jack chuckled. "I won't deny I get in trouble for that sometimes. But I always deliver on my word."
Siv looked at her, her dumbfounded expression growing.
"You're serious?" she uttered. "You're actually serious."
Jack just shrugged, her grin unwavering. She meant it.
Oh god, this woman was going to get herself killed.
"Jack. This isn't a normal zombie. This is a Hunter. In broad daylight. An apex predator that could give Volatiles a run for their money!"
"Sounds like the Punisher I fought back in 2009," Jack chided. "One hell of a man, that one."
"It almost killed you!"
"True. I've never dealt with something like this back home. But keeping the folks safe and free from the infected... That's what Ravens do. And I have to follow through on that job."
The Ravens. Siv had heard bits and pieces about the group as passing gossip, all because the person in front of her kept marketing herself. And Mahir seemed weirdly approving of said group for some reason.
"Now that I'm here," Jack continued, her voice more genuine, "The same goes for the Junction."
"I..." Again, Siv was lost for words. Convincing an adult like Jack, any adult, felt impossible. Everyone shut the young Runner down before she could finish what she wanted to say. But Jack? She listened.
The problem was, this grown-up's endgame was suicidal!
"Do you even have a plan?" Siv finally asked.
"Always. And a backup plan too." An easy response Jack had probably said a hundred times before. She stood bold as always and softly spoke, "I got a secret weapon up my sleeve, princess. I'll take care of this...gift-giving Day Hunter."
There was no arguing with the professional brawler. Jack wasn't just stubborn—she was immovable. But for once, Siv didn't leave the conversation angry or defeated like every conversation with previous adults.
Will had said the Wild Dog was terrifying, but this? An ex-kickboxer willingly going after what might be a new kind of Hunter?
Siv couldn't stop herself from worrying.
"Fine." It was going to be the same in the end, regardless of how hard the young girl tried to stop her. "You're gonna need this."
Another gift Jack didn't expect to get so soon, but it was one Siv truly believed she needed the most: the rope ascender unhinged off her own belt.
"Does this make me part of the team now?" Jack teased, full of flattery.
"Not even close," Siv shot back, scoffing. "It's not as convenient as a grappling hook. But it'll get you away from the Biters faster. Noam made these for us runners."
Jack turned the ascender over in her hands, admiring the clever craftsmanship. The grip felt solid, designed to hook smoothly onto a zipline. The power-winch looked strong enough to carry a person's weight without risking a dislocated shoulder.
Definitely a tool she couldn't leave without.
"Much obliged."
"Just come back to us in one piece, Granny. You're no good to us dead."
That last part was a little harsh, but she wasn't about to go soft on the newcomer. With that, Siv turned on her heel and walked away. The day was still young, and she had her own tasks to do.
"When are you ever gonna stop calling me Granny, little princess?" Jack asked, feigning offense.
"When you stop calling me princess!" Siv shouted back.
That was enough to get the girl peeved: Siv's fists clenched as she stormed down the hall, muttering soft curses under her breath. Siv could hear Jack chuckle loudly behind her back.
The damn granny liked to tease, and she hated it! Everyone's the same!
But Jack meant it out of goodwill. This place needed to keep up with its liveliness during these tough times—the last thing she wanted was a brooding teenager souring the atmosphere over her own safety.
Now, time to address the other issue at hand.
In the hall she was in, there was nobody to hear her sort through her thoughts aloud.
"So someone's been doing my job… And it's a Hunter." She didn't know whether to feel pleased or offended. Or worried. Or completely baffled.
But was it really the same Hunter?
The one she fought had been a ruthless, animalistic killer—no rational thought, no remorse. Now, this same creature had supposedly grown a conscience, saved two runners, and taken down thugs in the process?
It sounded impossible. And yet…maybe possible.
That nagging contradiction—the one brick that made the whole puzzle break apart—kept circling her mind. Jack couldn't forget what Freakazoid had slipped out during their fight.
The thing didn't say that name vocally, of course. But it did say it. It showed something inside was trying to get out.
Something human was still inside. Something trapped, fighting for the surface.
Telling her that he was right in front of her, inside the monster.
The idea was insane. If Bones were to hear this, he'd say Jack was mad as a Hatter. Again.
But then, he would probably chew on the theory a little longer. And Jack thought along the same line the smart lad would go along.
The creature clearly had some level of intelligence. It could tell the difference between hostile men and defenseless civilians. That much was clear. It wasn't random violence. It had intent.
Which was crazy. Laughable.
And yet, one question gnawed at her more than any other:
How did he even learn about Jack's list of chores?
Then she stopped herself and took out her phone: scratches and looking worse than yesterday. Like talons fiddled with it.
The pieces were lining up again, a little too neatly for comfort. One coincidence could be tossed away as chance. Two or three? It was either planned or something changed into a pattern.
"Sneaky bugger, aren't ya," she said to herself. "Prying into a woman's phone and giving it back."
But it was intriguing…
The idea of a monster remembering how to use a phone was impressive in itself, but she realized quickly that wasn't the pressing matter. She pulled down her armband and glanced at the fresh bite mark the mongrel gave her.
"And you didn't die from my secret weapon."
That caught her undivided attention.
"Does that mean your body's trying to fight it…?"
Any other infected she'd fought would've dropped dead after a single bite. But this Day Hunter? If it was the same creature still roaming around, alive and active, then there was something different about it.
Something worth investigating.
"If so… You could be the candidate we've been looking for."
This Special Infected had all the makings Bones needed for his pet project: an infected that didn't die. All the boxes were ticked. And frankly, Jack didn't think the discovery would come to her in a short amount of time and right to her lap.
More tests would be needed. One anomaly didn't guarantee success. Basic science knowledge.
Still, determination triumphed over caution as a wolfish grin curled across her face. It was nice to know that her opponent didn't keel over after their first match together.
He's got more surprises up his sleeve.
Yes, it was lunatic to go after such a Special Infected.
But Jack thrived on challenges. Like Bones said to her over the line, leave no stone unturned.
She chuckled. What a brilliant task to be given to her!
"Alright. Time to track me down a Day Hunter."
A/N: 27/10/19 Both revamped and reedited this chapter. I would say that dialogue is not my strongest thing (at least I believe it myself) but I'm happy to have push further in this chapter, especially the interactions between the runners and Jack. I'm more for suspense and a bit of drama than humor or casualness. It's also fun to write Jack's past with Jade and Rahim and there will be more onwards through the chapters.
The ascender tool is one thing I thought of, originally was mentioned in later chapters but here was a good spot to put it. My "game design" aim is sorta like a partnership between Mutant Crane and Mad Jack, so of course, as crazy as it sounds, Jack would need as much of leverage to keep up with a sentient Night Hunter. The ascender tool is a second tool besides the grappling hook to speed your way faster like in Bioshock: Infinite and Tomb Raider, the reboot series.
Just as I said that Mad Jack's skillset is designed in the works to be able to keep up with Crane, Crane's own skillset will have to be tweaked down - that it can't be exactly the same as a pure Night Hunter's skill tree. Because that would make the game broken. Additionally, I have some ideas down the line that would make his skill tree more interesting: in a way of a stealth runner that comes from the back while Jack is a brawler (fortitude over speed) that goes in from the front and taking the eyes on her, not on Crane when he attacks. That's the kind of COOP combat I see for them.
Anyway, hope you enjoy this revamped chapter and please review, give me your constructive criticism too. And ideally, the next chapter may become mostly a new one for you to look forward too!
15/8/20 - Reedited
7/2/21 - Added new lines, fixed mistakes and edited parts according to new timestamp from pilot.
3/4/21 - Edited some fixes.
17/2/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments. Edited some dialogues.
21/2/22 - Complete reedit of the beginning chapter with Crane's perspective to correct the flow between last chapter and this.
6/7/22 - Changed a character's appearance and lines. Made Orhan and Fazil sibilings
22/3/23 - Edited some fixes and details.
1/1/24 - Final fixes and changes, I hope
4/1/25 - Reedted some parts to be more streamlined and removed some unwanted text. Retweaked some important cues to Jack's character.