DISCLAIMER*: There is no protagonist shipping. There are going to be some NPC shipping (as best as I can write because...I'm honestly not that great at writing romance. Sorry, people)
Chapter Summary
- A FRIENDLY CHAT
Fuck… I got caught. By the woman I was supposed to kill. Maybe it's for the better… But there's something about this person. And this group of hers... Immunity...? And they know about the Tower. - Kyle
SIX: VOICELESS
There were a million things Crane wanted to undo.
A million choices he wanted to change. Just for things to go back to normal. But that list was extremely long—working for GRE, being a lying bastard, following orders, and so on. He was already a monster before he turned into one.
He had questions too. But, even if he had the answers, they were either the ones he didn't want to hear or the ones he knew all along.
One question, the loudest among the rest, clawed its way to the surface.
"-What am I doing?!"
The woman in red beat him to the punch.
"This is the same freak that tried to eat me! Twice!"
Her agitated pacing brought his surroundings into focus. Crane barely opened his eyes, too drained to do more than watch the lady think aloud, as clueless as he was. She had finally caught him—the talking sentient zombie.
Even those words were absurd, like some cruel joke of reality.
If he could speak, he'd tell her she wasn't alone in her disbelief. But that would only make things worse.
"Everyone's gonna tell you you've gone mental. Again-!"
He slipped back into the darkness. There was nothing for him. It didn't matter what he was now; he was powerless and helpless. The people at the Tower wouldn't recognize him, let alone help him.
He wasn't a person anymore; he was one big, fat threat to everyone and anyone.
"Fine. I can tick off 'voices in my head' and add 'zombie friend' to my bucket list! How about that?!"
Most of all, he was on the edge between human and infected, on neither side of the coin.
This couldn't go on any longer.
He had gone mad ever since he 'woke up' without knowing it.
"...What do I even have to lose anymore," the brunette sighed as she wheeled back toward him.
Through his blurry vision, Crane could barely make out her form approaching. The same woman he had planned to kill out of mercy.
"Alright."
Crane braced himself. He had been waiting for this. Expecting it. It didn't matter that the thought terrified him—someone was finally going to end him.
He closed his eyes.
Maybe now he could find peace-
"You're coming with me."
What?
No. Stop.
Don't come near me.
He was dangerous. A monster. His swimming thoughts tried to fight back, but his body refused to move. Could he even stop her if he wanted to? And then, as his eyes fluttered open, he looked up and saw...
The Mother.
She stood there, mocking him, looking down at him with that sun-shaped mask of hers. Hiding her true face. Grotesque. Deceiving.
Nothing but a lie.
How was she here? He had killed her. Torn her head from her shoulders.
He wanted to move. Get her before she'd do anything again.
Kill her-
"Hey. Freakazoid."
The illusion shattered by a thick-accented voice. Where the Mother had crouched before him moments ago, the woman in the red jacket now knelt in her place.
Even up close, Crane couldn't read her eyes—who would have thought that a zombie couldn't see past reflective lenses?
She waved a hand and waited for a response.
Nothing. Crane was in and out again. He didn't feel himself being carried.
"Urrrgh...! Christ... You're blooming heavy," she complained, pulling his arm over her shoulder. "Lose some weight, why don't you?"
Shaddup… He had a long few days.
Kyle wanted to voice that out. But he was too tired.
And yet this person was going out of her way to carry his pathetic body somewhere. Why? Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have run the other way from an infected, let alone carried one like deadweight.
No, that was wrong. She had plenty of opportunities to kick the bucket—yet she was still breathing. Her movements, her probing glances, the calculated risks she took...
She wasn't just anyone. She had been down the same vicinity as he had.
And she wasn't acting out of compassion or obligation. No, this was calculated. She was taking him because he was her mark.
But that didn't matter. He was stuck here, inside a monster. Alone and with no hope. So if one gets badly bruised lemons...he might as well make lemonade.
But first, he was going to need help. He couldn't do this alone. And that was something he had never asked for.
Kyle Crane had always been a lone wolf. He'd shouldered every burden, faced every threat, and taken every responsibility. And look where that had gotten him.
As crazy as it sounded in Crane's head, this reckless, stubborn woman was his best bet.
Since she was offering a hand, he'd take the chance. Just this one time, he'd call out for help. The brunette intended to carry his battered body like a soldier carrying the wounded across a battlefield.
That was, of course, assuming she didn't change her mind and decide to kill him later.
"Hey."
Click, click, click!
Crane's eyes snapped open at the sharp sound of snapping fingers—right next to his ear. So there was a downside to such powerful hearing.
Instinctively, he tried to move, but his body didn't comply. His hands were bound with military-grade cable ties. She must have scavenged them from the parking lot during her retreat.
But did she really think this would stop him? He could use a talon to cut free. Then again, Crane was teetering on the edge of consciousness to put that to the test.
The soft creak of footsteps across wooden planks caught his attention. It took Crane seconds to realize he was in a shabby hotel room, its former grandeur long gone.
The air was stale, the faint scent of mildew and decay filling the space. The master bed had been torn apart by scavengers. Two recent tenants slumped by the barricaded door from the crowbar, still slick with gore.
That remained in the woman's hand as she leaned casually against a dresser and waited with guarded focus.
It was just the two of them now.
Crane groaned softly, his exhaustion weighing him down as he struggled to sit up. His mind screamed at him to act, to escape, but his body was unwilling to cooperate just yet.
Surprisingly, she was calm. Maybe confident the ties would slow him.
Ready for any move he might make with that crowbar.
"Now."
It was a start—she was having a conversation with a Hunter. "Today's been a wild ride for me. Not every day you run into an infected do more than talk."
Yup...the elephant in the room.
Not like he'd been trying to hide it.
"For all I know, I could be losing it. And honestly? I'd be fine with that." She let the silence stretch with a stern glimpse behind the shades. "But you're not like the others… You know how to fight."
Fight with his claws, tendrils, and teeth or fight like a human? But Crane refrained from saying anything.
"If you really are an intelligent bloke and you're not gonna rip me to shreds, I'll take the binds off." The brunette held out an unlit UV flashlight as a threat. "But don't be upset at me if you attack first."
Fair enough. Crane had no quarrels.
"So...let's have a friendly chat, shall we?"
Her voice had the distinct tone of a middle school teacher dealing with a problem student. The crowbar in her other hand might as well have been the ruler, and her eyes—if he could see them—probably screamed, "Pull one more stunt and I'll shut you up."
Crane partially regretted his earlier decision. Offering even the smallest olive branch had put him there—at the mercy of someone who saw him as a science project.
This group of hers...they tagged him as a 'candidate'. Which meant he was going to become an experiment. The image of himself pinned to a table like a dissected frog flashed in his mind.
But one thing was clear: they wanted him alive.
Moreover, a sentient zombie was likely a rare gem to this group—a resource to exploit. And he didn't like that idea of being someone's 'infected pet'.
Come on, stop hesitating. Didn't he want help? The brunette was offering exactly that. As insane as it seemed, she might be the only person willing to hear an infected out. There was no denying that she had heard both his words and...whatever the telepathic mumbo jumbo was.
But should he risk it? Inside the room, he had as little trust as she did in him.
A sudden sigh broke the tension.
"Yeah, Jackie," she mumbled, already turning towards the door. "You've officially lost it."
Wait. Wait! Wait! You just heard me talk!
Crane still needed answers. Moreover, he needed someone right now. Anyone!
"W-Wait."
The distorted rasp of his voice was enough to send shivers in the human—she flew into fight mode, her weapon whipped high up like the bat of a baseball pitcher. She was primed and ready.
Yeah...maybe he shouldn't use his voice. Even he wasn't used to it yet.
That left only one awkward option for the both of them. But he tried again.
"Wait." The word echoed directly in her head.
The tension in her shoulders shot higher, but this time she didn't bolt.
"Wait." Man, was his head still swimming. Kyle shook his head with a gruff, failing to catch the flinching off the woman's tense shoulders and frantic search for the voice in her head.
Only for her gaze to land on him.
"Please."
The crowbar stayed raised for what felt like an eternity to Crane, but she didn't strike either.
"What the…" She trailed off, too flabbergasted after getting an honest plea from the monster before her. The crowbar lowered. "I thought I was hearing things."
"You're not the only one," Crane replied languidly. An attempt to help break the ice.
It wasn't working. The frown on her face got a lot thinner and her weapon was still at a level that could do some damage if he'd make a mistake.
"How...how are you doing that?" she asked. "What are you?"
"I wish I knew."
The fog in his mind was lifting, but the pounding headache lingered. He forced himself to straighten up.
"Hrgmm…" The low, groggy groan was involuntary, enough for the grip on the crowbar to be tightened. His slow inhale—ribcage expanding like a Volatile—didn't help his case.
As he deflated, the weapon arched down slowly.
"...But I think I have an idea or two on what."
"Oh. Ok," she chided, putting her hands on her hips. It wasn't clear if she was trying to shake off her unease or just masking it. "How about sharing it with the class then?"
Share? It wasn't like he was keeping it a secret. There was nothing stopping him except himself. The answer was plain and simple.
And he hated it.
A sentient zombie. Maybe even something worse—a sentient Volatile, like the Mother.
The reality behind it finally sunk in and it hurt. Horribly.
He opened his mouth to give that answer but stopped, gazing at the woman. Something he hadn't noticed before struck him.
Or was it his 'infected' side telling him that?
Something was... off about her. But he couldn't put his finger on it. She was human, yes; she hadn't turned like him. Yet.
His vision, warped as it was by his infected state, didn't help. It made everything around and beneath the surface unnervingly vivid. Humans lit up like fireflies while Kyle was almost desensitized to the presence of the undead.
It wasn't so much a 'lack of it' but more of 'a need' to find humans. Prey.
But her? She wasn't like the others.
The colored pulse in her chest flickered like anyone else's heartbeat. But it was strange. Different. The hue was darker, dimmer—a deep, unnatural blood orange.
She is back.
That wasn't his gut telling him, but the voice knew.
He could see clearly that the lady was not the Mother. She was a Caucasian woman in her mid-thirties, dressed in gear practical for survival but also for a brawl—if it wasn't for that flashy red jacket. Nothing about her resembled a sentient Volatile in tattered, traditional clothing, adorned with jewelry, and drooling from rotten mandibles.
And yet, the voice in his head insisted. Aggressively. That the Mother was back. That she stood in the brunette's place.
The woman's impatience was evident in her arched eyebrows, but she didn't lash out. Of course, she had a monster staring at her for far too long to her liking
And now that he had a good look at her, it tugged at a question he ended up blurting out.
"You… Why are you like Mother?"
The brunette's expression stiffened as her sunglasses slid down her nose.
"Excuse me?" she muttered aloud.
"No... I…" Crane groaned, unable to get another word out because of the dizziness. He let his head drop back onto the floorboards.
The words sounded so stupid now.
"How hard did you hit me?"
"Clearly not hard enough," she retorted dryly. "I have to be an ugly parent to birth you, Freakazoid. And I don't have children."
"N-No. Not you… Someone else," he groaned. Even the thought of calling this random woman 'mother' was nauseous. OR that Volatile freak.
"Right. I think I've had my fill for the day." Off she went for the door with a wave of goodbye. "Take care."
Wait.
Hold on!
Just like that?!
She wasn't even fazed?! Normal people would be running for the hills, for crying out loud!
"W-Wait a second!" Crane gave himself a hard shake of his head, overwhelmed with disbelief. "You're just gonna leave...? You found a talking zombie!"
"Yes. Until you called me 'mother'." She didn't even give him a chance to defend himself. "That's good enough reason for me not to stick around with someone who's gone proper bonkers. Human or infected wise."
"Look who's talking. Who tries to pick a fight with the GRE?"
"Oh. So someone who has been turned knows about them," the brunette pointed with intrigue. Did he slip up? "Then you should already know they're not the kind of people who would let me live."
Ok, that was true. He couldn't deny that.
She clapped her hands together in finality, like wrapping up a meeting. "Look. I'm sure you got some tragic sob story before you became…this. But I've got better things to do than listen to the voice in my head."
Her smile was nonchalant, expressing the phrase, 'no offense' right back at him.
"Sooo, goodbye and good luck, mate."
And with that, she headed for the door, her back to him.
Crane couldn't believe it.
Why, you arrogant, little…
She may have hog-tied his claws but spite lit up in him. His claws split open and out came the tendrils.
They shot forward and latched onto her heels.
"Whoa! Gak!"
The sudden jerk sent Jack crashing to the floor. The flashlight and crowbar clattered away as she clawed desperately to escape, but the unnatural appendages slithered around her arms, dragging her closer.
"Vicious bastard!"
Closer she was hauled to the Hunter, snapping himself free from the cable ties. Fear swallowed Jack whole—Freakazoid was free. He pinned her down, towering like a giant over a caged dog.
No more Mr. Nice Guy. No courtesy because she was a woman. Kyle was done getting walked on.
An infected didn't need tolerance.
"You listen here." The ex-kickboxer struggled but the tendrils around her tightened. Crane brought his face closer to her, to take a closer look at the monster. "I don't know how I got my marbles back. But it's got something to do with you."
"Oh. How flattering," she droned. But she was shaking. "Except I have no idea what you mean, mate!"
"Well, better start thinking. Because I can switch back."
Her angry glare shrunk away. Oh shit indeed.
"So unless you don't want me biting your face off, you're gonna tell me what you did back at that chapel."
"So you do remember our little scuffle." Did she always act so smug to anyone she met? "Hm. Ok. Then you should remember that you were trying to kill me!"
He clicked his teeth, a very thin frown plastered on his face. She wasn't wrong. And he wasn't trying to shift the blame onto a stranger.
"I...I know…" His grip softened, ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, Freakazoid didn't look so big and threatening to the Wild Dog. "I shouldn't even be back."
The torch Crane had been given—the Mother forced it upon him. When she forced that blue liquid into his mouth, it sealed his fate forever.
"Maybe you'll understand when you see it with my eyes."
A day and a night, he saw through the same eyes the Mother had—that far in as a grotesque beast—and he wished for everything to be normal. Even glancing down at the woman, his insides twisted in shame. He acted out fiendishly, ready to tear her apart, just as he nearly did to that runner the other night.
He wasn't this monster. He was still human. And he wanted his feet back on the ground.
"But...I need help," he started. "...And you're all I got right now."
There. He said it.
For the first time, Kyle Crane confessed his weak side inside this hideous shell of his to a complete stranger. The mysterious brawler was his best and only lead right now.
Her sunglasses had fallen off during the scuffle. Her pretty hazel eyes went through an array of emotions. At first, they were wide with fear, which quickly gave way to confusion. Then observation. She stared at him—hard and serious—examining the vulnerability in an infected creature.
Not like she had any choice but to listen. She had a freak on top of her, her limbs bound together.
But it was so strange for someone in this kind of situation to look unusually calm.
Then, out of the blues, she grinned. Tilting her head to the right like a Cheshire Cat. Her messy braided ponytail swayed over her shoulder, brushing against his vein-covered claw.
Wait… Was that intentional?
"Hm-hm." There was an odd tone in her voice, almost teasing. "Is this your way of softening me up so I go easy on you?"
Crane's animalistic eyes widened, and his grip slackened, letting Jack plop back down with a sly grin. A lump formed in his throat. "What?"
Clueless. And the woman in red played on that as she tilted her head, braid swaying like a pendulum and gaze sparking with mischief. "Alright. I'll play along. So what were you into? Quick and dirty? No strings attached? Or were you the type who 'indulges in the moment'?"
His eyes grew even more. The bells inside his head rang violently.
"Whoa! Hang on!" His voice cracked. It didn't make it any better that the distorted voice of a monster was breaking. "Time out!"
The brunette hunched an eyebrow. Why the shyness? She coaxed silently with that grin. "You said you got your marbles back. And you were human once. Can't be your first time-"
"W-What first time?!" Was she seriously suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?! Also, what?! Huh?!
He couldn't process any of this! Did he really get messed up in the head?!
"Come now. You've probably smoothed your way into a lot of hearts in the past, yes? Tall, dark, mysterious, strong man but he hides a soft interior under that thick skin."
Her gaze narrowed slightly as she scanned him from head to toe. "Thicker skin?"
"A-Are we really talking about this?!" Why was he feeling flustered? Was it because of the room?! Wait, no! Why should an infected feel embarrassed?
Also, NO! He wasn't that kind of person outside of work!
"Hm. Maybe I was wrong. You're rather finicky for a bloodthirsty Hunter."
She was toying with him. She had to be!
"This isn't what you think-!"
Crane's full-blown embarrassment betrayed him. He unintentionally loosened his hold on the mischievous woman as he 'politely' pushed himself off the lady.
In the span of a heartbeat, that distance between them was all she needed.
Her playful grin shifted to a wicked, dangerous gleam he saw back at the parking lot.
Oh shit.
It hit him too late. Her legs, freed, shot up and lassoed around his neck. The crazy brawler wasn't going to let him go. Her tied-up arms literally roped around his head!
"Shit!" Crane growled. He underestimated her! Quickly, the petite brunette turned this around by grabbing onto his tendrils to stop them from retracting!
He halfway knew what that move was going-!
But before he could counter or stop her momentum, Jack went in for the real attack. Her hands pushed him closer, closer to her maddening eyes.
And he saw a set of pearly-white teeth ready to sink down.
"Mmph-!" At first, he misread the angle—her face close, almost ready to tear at his neck. But no. Soft lips pressed against his rough ones, her mischievous eyes locking with his wide, shocked gaze.
One second, heat flooded his chest in overwhelming shock; the next, sharp pain seared through soft tissue.
"Gack!"
Crane jerked back, off his knees. She hadn't become a Biter, but she deliberately bit him! Of her own volition. Again!
He felt the teeth tear into his gum as he instinctively tried to shove his berserk attacker off him. The taste of iron on his tongue—mixed with something acidic and bitter.
That short reflex was the opening Jack gunned for—the monster's natural reaction of being bitten up front.
Because in his panic, the tendrils had been retracted back into his arms. With one swift motion, she flipped him. Crane's world spun forward before he hit the ground, and suddenly, she was on top. A forearm pressed against his throat, her weight pinning him and legs locking his arms to prevent another tendril strike.
A ruse. And Crane had fallen for it like a red-faced schoolboy.
"Now you listen well, jackarse," she demanded. "I have no idea why you're able to think. Could have been all those punches I've given to your noggin."
That was one theory Crane had considered himself. But voicing it out wasn't an option with his windpipe from being crushed.
"But!" she continued, her expression stern and focused. "You might just be the missing link we've been looking for this entire time."
"What...?" Missing link?
"You're a bloody mystery. And if solving that mystery gets us one step closer to finding a cure, then it could help everyone!"
Cure?
Did he hear that right?
"All I ask is your cooperation." A wild request, from a monster. "And no more of this tentacle nonsense either!" Her grip tightened, driving her point home. "Capisce?"
"What are you talking about?" Crane asked as he choked. "There's already one being made."
Camden was working on it—he had to be.
"Of course, I know that. I'm surprised someone like you knows too." She was then just as surprised as Kyle was. But for a different reason. More cautious. "Wait, can zombies read minds? Do you read minds?"
She knows about Camden and the cure? When? How?
The woman in red shook her head—move on with the main topic first. "Whatever. The fact is, we've got no one to help us. GRE are a bunch of bootlickers and the whole bleedin' world has abandoned this country."
Oh boy. If only she knew the irony of sitting on top of an ex-GRE agent.
"And I'm bloody sure you know that better than anyone," she added.
There was weight to that last sentence—this lunatic had observed Crane well enough to see past the 'infected mindlessness', to know how far he was capable of doing. And another thing he never thought she would pick on; empathy.
"Do you want to be cured?"
He did.
He really, truly did.
It was the whole reason Crane had started this long, painful journey—not just for himself, but for everyone left behind in Harran.
That moment of hesitation—the faint yearning in those silver eyes—loosened her hold a little. A tiny compromise for air. "Then help me do my job."
"...And what the hell is your job?" he growled, baring his canines. He twisted, trying to free his neck from her hold. But no go.
"To find out what's happening to this virus and to all of us."
Crane stared at her like she was mad. No, she was mad. The virus was doing exactly what it had always done—it brought back the screaming damned. It turned him into this. It killed lives and destroyed homes.
What was the point of learning anything more about it?
But he couldn't deny there was something up with this virus and the brunette understood that. Had this virus evolved into something more sinister while he'd been lost in the darkness? Did Crane and the others overlook something? Or was it another wild goose chase this woman's people sent her on?
It had to be. All the leads he'd followed, all the trails he'd pursued, had led to nothing but dead ends and empty promises. The only hope left rested on Camden finishing the cure.
Yet, he couldn't let it go. After so long, the wanting was deceiving him, and the hope was poisonous. The sneaky question of "could this be the lead he was searching for this entire time?" burrowed deep into his thoughts and even his black heart.
"What say you?"
The woman's determined stance stoked an ember in him he hadn't felt in a long time, against his better judgment. Here was someone infected with the Harran virus, dead set on finding answers before her clock ran out.
...Alright. Let's see how far this rabbit hole goes. So Crane stopped his squirming.
"Crystal," he said. "Now get off."
Her smirk returned.
"Good." With the same brazenness as before, she hopped off the terrifying Hunter like it was no big deal. "Glad we've come to an agreement."
She adjusted her shades as though nothing had just gone down. As though she hadn't just bitten him.
"Gack..." Crane rubbed at the punctures in his lower lip, wincing at the sting. "Dammit... Y-You...you bit me!"
"What are you, a big baby? You're still standing."
"What? Who - What the FUCK is wrong with you? I have the Harran virus!" he bellowed. She should care about that! That was the biggest deal!
"And? I'm already infected." And the deal was shoved aside like yesterday's old news. "Can't get any worse than that."
"Christ on a crutch," he muttered, at a loss for anything else. The woman casually leaned back against the wall, hands in her jacket pockets. "Normal people should be worrying about turning into a Biter!"
"I'll cross that road when I get there," she replied so confidently. "And that's a long way off."
This brunette really had no sense of fear!
"Are you this egotistical to anyone? Or just the infected?"
Jack shrugged, her grin as stubborn as ever. "Well, it is one of my redeeming qualities. Gotta keep up appearances on television."
"I'm sorry?"
"You know, a box that shows moving images. A TV," she pointed, her hand gestures forming an imaginary shape.
"I know what a TV is," he hissed. "...This was a bad idea."
"What, don't recognize an old idol when you see one?" Jack chimed mockingly. "Not an actress, if that's what you were hoping for, but a pro's better than nothing."
"Ok. You've completely lost me. What are you talking about?"
The woman in red gave him a look of genuine puzzlement at the disconnected vibe she was getting. As if she needed Beastly to clarify that he wasn't pulling her leg.
Hey, he was on the same page as she was. He didn't get what she was going on about.
"Hang on. You know about GRE...but you don't recognize me from TV?"
"Why should I? You're some narcissistic spokesperson I should know about?"
The shift in her expression was instantaneous—Jack glanced at him, insulted. Offended! She flung her arms wide, as if presenting herself.
"Mad Jack."
All she got was a shrug from Freakazoid—a gesture saying "And?".
"Jack the Wild Dog?" Still nothing. "Previous kickboxing world champion? Four years running? 2011 showdown with the Scorpion at the Scanderoon Sports Palace?!"
Absolutely nothing. Crane just shook his head, deadpan. To be frank, he wasn't into kickboxing. Or much into any women's sports, for that matter.
But that title she mentioned…
Before Crane could process it, Jack's arms dropped to her sides. Her mouth fell open, a picture of exasperation.
"Unbelievable… What was I even thinking?" she muttered to herself, scoffing. "As if a walker would know anything about sports."
"Hey. I do know sports. I was a human," he hissed, regretting—for the second time—that he'd decided to rely on this lunatic. Again, Kyle. A lunatic!
"Well, clearly, you were more into the hockey channel when you were human."
He narrowed his eyes. "...Ok, that was a good guess. I'll give you that."
"Of course. You're too easy to read."
Now she was talking out of her ass. Him? A monster's easy to read?
Jack heaved out a sigh of relief, seemingly over the hurdle he presented. Her hand moved toward her ear. "Bones' gonna have a field day with this-"
"No."
Freakkazoid moved faster than she could respond on her earpiece, a claw latching onto her wrist.
One person knowing about him was already too much. A whole group? It would turn into a circus. And Crane was the freakshow in the center ring.
But before he could protest, he felt it sharp and right at his abdomen.
In his attempt at stopping her, the brawler's crowbar was poised, ready to strike if he pushed further. Her cheeky grin was gone, replaced by a hard, dangerous gaze.
She did warn him; she'd land the first blow if Freakazoid stepped out of line.
"I'm not...fine with this. With any of this… I don't want anyone else knowing."
"Then you can leave."
Crane blinked, caught off guard by the quick response. She wasn't kidding.
"I won't act like this is something that can be overlooked. The Ravs need intel, and you can't stop me just because you're scared."
"I'm not…" It wasn't fear. It was shame. Hence, his sentence died out in Crane's mouth.
"You want a cure," she reinforced that point to him. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do."
Crane's grip on her wrist tightened, but Jack didn't flinch. He consciously stopped himself, afraid that his inhuman strength could snap the bones.
Negotiations were out the window. Because she was right—they wouldn't get anywhere if he kept stalling. But what could she do? Everything about this woman and her group was vague. Hell, he had never heard of this Ravs group.
It could be another faction exploiting innocent lives. Or a bunch of people peddling lies and false hope. But they had some sort of mission that was important to them.
Immunity. Secret weapon. Cure.
What was their angle? Desperation?
No. The woman's whole body exhumed a strong aura as she stared down at a dangerous mutant... Well, up since she was so petite to him.
It reminded him too much of himself in his early days in Harran—only that she had an 'older' look about her. Not just age-wise. But experience-wise.
There was no getting through to her.
He grunted in defeat and released her hand. Like a child forced to obey, he trudged to a corner. Out of spite.
That was a sight Jack had never thought to see. A brooding zombie.
"Bones, do you copy?"
"Jack? Oh, thank god. What happened to you? You went radio silent."
"Ran into some GRE scouts doing recon," she replied nonchalantly.
"Them again." A loud groan seeped through the mic. "They don't know when to quit."
Quit?
"They certainly never expected anyone from the Outskirts to survive this long. And now they're branching out."
"They must be desperate to find whatever it is they're after," the guy on the radio said.
Or looking for something, Crane thought to himself as he listened.
"Taking all of the precautions?" Jack continued the conversation none the wiser of Freakazoid listening in.
"All of it. And there's Lenny's traps. Rangers are also keeping an eye out."
"Good," the brunette replied, a little restless in her step. She hid that underlying unease for only a moment. "Not much has changed since I left."
"Things have changed. The new base is in shambles, we're short on people, and you're in another infested city, chasing some Grad's half-boiled ideas."
"I wouldn't call them half-boiled. I did find you a Candidate, didn't I?"
"Speaking of which, how's the Hunter-catching going?"
Right. The tracking. Crane had almost forgotten that he was still tagged, followed, and monitored. Even if he wanted to walk away from these people, they would still keep tabs on him to the ends of the world.
Where the hell is this damn tracker? Crane asked himself again and tiredly so.
"Right. The Day Hunter."
Jack paced about nervously. How was she going to explain this one without sounding crazy? The more she thought about it, the worse it got.
"I've been watching the whole time." Which meant this person was seeing two dots in a small space on the monitor. "He wasn't too much trouble?"
"Trouble." Took the word right out of her mouth. "Bones. About Freakazoid…There's something you should know."
"About?"
"He's never going to believe you."
That unsettling thought crept into Jack's head, she spun so fast on her heels, looking back at Freakazoid with wide eyes behind her sunglasses.
How in the blazes-?
The Day Hunter must have pieced the conversation together. No, he heard Bones' replies. How sharp was his hearing?!
He leaned back smugly, waiting for the curtains to fall for her failure of a performance.
"Go ahead. I'm sure this will go over great."
Oh, this hooligan. He was banking on the Ravens thinking she had gone insane.
"Excuse me. Earlier, you were insisting you didn't want anyone to know about you-"
"Jack? You've got company?"
"Yes. Company. Let's call it that. So this candidate...can do a lot more than we originally thought."
"Ok. What else can he do?" Bones asked warily.
If he asked for it, Jack had no choice but to comply. "Remember our discussion about communication between the infected?"
"Yeah?"
Jack paced the room, keeping one wary eye on the grumpy Day Hunter. Who was to say he wouldn't jump on her to stay quiet?
"He talked to me."
"...I'm sorry. What?" Bones sounded like he hadn't heard her correctly. "Run that by me again?"
"The Day Hunter. Talked to me," Jack reiterated firmly.
"Ah. Ok… Metaphorically or verbally?"
"Verbally."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm absolutely sure." Her patience hung by a thread. This is going swimmingly.
"Uh-huh… I'll get Asem." A muffled shout followed. "Asem! Someone get Asem!"
"Hold it! Come back to the mic, Bones!"
"I knew letting you go alone was a bad idea. We should have gotten you a Lifeline," the young man mumbled over the line.
"Listen, this is not one of those moments!" Jack argued. "I am perfectly sane!"
"I beg to differ."
"Oh, you be quiet," she snapped at the brooding, smart-mouthed Hunter.
"Me? What did I do?" Bones uttered over the comms.
"Not you. Him!" She barked, waving a hand at the source of her latest migraine. "The talking zombie!"
"Uh-huh. Jack. You just told me an infected spoke to you."
Yes, I'm aware it sounds insane," she admitted. "But I'm telling the truth. Freakazoid can talk to me."
"Hey. Why am I being called Freakazoid?"
Ok, dumb question for Kyle to focus on right now, but that nickname felt a little unnecessary.
"You see him on the map. He can say one word over the comms."
"Wait, he's not even tied up?!"
"He already tore off the binds, Bones."
"Kill it before it kills you!"
"Wow, that's hurtful," Crane mumbled to himself.
"That would be the logical thing to do. If he didn't have such a riveting personality," she chided, dropping her voice to a whisper, "And he's a big, sordid whiner."
"I heard that."
The brunette ignored him.
"O-K. So basically, you have a domesticated killing machine in the same room with you."
"That can talk," Jack added with emphasis. "Oh, and he can do it telepathically too."
She turned to the Hunter. "You have no qualms if I tell him that, right?"
Freakazoid opened his mouth—
"No? Good."
He slumped back, glaring. "Fuck you too, lady."
"Right. Look. You've had a few rough days," Bones continued.
Oh, god. This talk. And coming from someone a decade younger than her. She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt.
"Yeah. You've shown you can handle yourself. But not when your condition can trigger at any time. You need Rav backup. With you. In person."
"Alright. Then send a Ranger to my location. They can see the proof."
Freakazoid's glowing eyes bugged out, clearly not thrilled by the suggestion. But a lock-on from the woman stopped him from even trying to tip-toe.
"If you run, Freakazoid, I'm coming after you."
Crane grumbled quietly to himself. He actually believed her.
"Hey," Jack called out with that saleswoman tone of hers. "Just say a word, and this can all be sorted out. No need to meet anyone new."
Beastly didn't budge. It was almost convincing, like all his problems could disappear with a single word.
Instead, he huffed and folded his arms, the smug satisfaction practically radiating off him.
"You arsehole."
"And now she's playing with the zombie… Ok. Just...head back to the Junction. Scrap this whole project."
She muffled down a loud groan. "Both of you are not making this easier than it needs to be."
"Easier? Do you hear yourself?" Bones asked. "The odds of an infected talking normally are zero! Most of them have their cords ripped out!"
"Looks like I hit the jackpot," she uttered, trying to steer the conversation her way.
"Jack, listen. All they can do is go "grrrrrr!". They're brain-dead! None of them won't be able to use any vocabulary. The same goes for this one!"
The back-and-forth had been entertaining at first, but the more Crane listened to the other voice, the more irritated he became. He was willing to let everything slide earlier—watching the woman fumble through her pride was a bonus—but now?
The constant dismissal on the other end grated on his nerves.
The know-it-all loudmouth kept going on with his droning.
"Uh, Bones?"
"No, no. This time, you're listening to me. The infected are nothing but walking piles of rotten flesh without any neutron left inside their skulls. And we are all gonna end up like them! That's a fact we can't escape."
Jack felt the shift in the room, slowly looking back to see the Hunter standing behind her. Although the rags covered up his face, his animalistic glare bored her.
No, towards the voice over the comms.
"Right now, you're hallucinating, and that's already something to be concerned about. But hey, if you're so convinced, then we'll get him a collar and a water bowl. Just please, come back to the Outskirts so we get you checked," Bones begged, unaware of what was happening on the other end of the line.
"Hand it over here."
Jack blinked, caught off guard by the outstretched claw.
So Freakazoid finally decided to speak for himself.
"Hang on, Bones. You got a call."
"What?" Jack immediately handed over her earpiece to Freakazoid. "Seriously, Jack! This isn't funny anymore. Vials, Biters, Volatiles, and this Day Hunter can't talk-!"
"Are you sure about that?"
Crane said that right into the mic. Loud and clear. With his hoarse, monstrous voice.
There was a loud thud on the other end of the line, followed by a clatter and a yell of "Holy shit!" From the sound of it, the wise-ass had backed away from the mic in shock, tripped over his own chair, and hit the floor.
Good, Crane thought to himself.
"W-What? Jack, was that you?"
"No, it's the stupid zombie talking to you."
"Ge-ge-ge-what! " The stammering voice on the other end completely lost its composure. "...Holy shit. Holy shit! H-How is this even possible?"
The Freakazoid tossed the earpiece back to Jack in a fit and went back to his corner to mope. He wasn't in any mood to continue talking.
"Told you," she said into the earpiece.
"W-Wha...b-but-but-"
"Yes, Bones. It's a lot to digest." She glanced back at Crane. "If an infected can regain back his humanity, then there is something up with this virus. Maybe it's the key to reversing it."
"Um...give - just give me five minutes."
"I'll give you one."
"One minut-?! You can't just shake that off like it's nothing!"
"Why not? We've gotten used to everything else back home."
"Geezus, man… Ok, ok. Thinking cap on. Um, m-maybe the virus has mutated to the point of...reforming brain cells? B-But even then, it wouldn't guarantee any sense of personality back…! Unless he created his own ego."
The guy on the other end sounded very unsure of that last part.
"And here I thought my punches knocked some sense into him."
"Same," Freakazoid absently grimaced. The guy's theory sounded way too far-fetched to him.
"This changes everything! Forget the samples. You need to bring him here! Run all the tests on him." There was a sudden pause. "Oh my gaaawk," the young man mumbled, voice muffled as if he was speaking into his hands. "That is the stupidest idea I've ever said in my entire life."
"Actually, it might be your most brilliant one yet." She then stopped her chirpiness, already sensing the disapproval inside the room. "But...I don't think he'll like that."
How true that was to Crane as he averted his eyes away and shrunk in his spot. Maybe there was some truth in the woman 'reading' into him. His body language spoke more volume than a face twisted and contorted by the virus.
Tests. Meaning a lab rat. Kyle could only imagine being strapped down, poked and prodded like an animal, subjected to pain in the name of science.
Maybe he should let it happen. A fitting punishment for someone like him, he thought. If only he could stop feeling...afraid.
He didn't notice the brunette watching him closely. What she saw wasn't a monster sulking but a normal, 'human' reaction of hearing they would be dissected up.
Of 'accepting their fate'.
And that was strange. Pitying the dead? That was natural. Putting an infected down out of mercy? It was the right thing to do. But pitying a sentient, non-violent infected that almost tried to kill her earlier?
That was what surprised Jack.
Because right in the room, he looked like a pitiful cat having escaped from the rain. And she was a dog person herself.
"Oh, c'mon. He's that self-aware?" Bones whined.
Self-aware.
Indeed, Jack shared the same line of thinking as her friend had. And that word struck hard.
"Couldn't you tell him it's for the sake of humanity? Maybe lie-?"
"He can hear you, Bones." On the other end came a long-winded, frustrated groan. "I'm not gonna force him to the Outskirts."
That surprised Freakazoid. Or was she trying to con him? Make him think the conversation was going one way when she meant another.
The voice on the other end yielded with a heavy sigh. He didn't sound happy, but surprisingly, he didn't push the issue. "Fine. Fine… Yeah. I'd be a hypocrite if we started poking needles into someone like him. And I know better."
Crane furrowed his brow. Strange of a stranger to be that accepting.
"We've all been there, Bones," Jack said understandably. "Only natural."
"Yeah, and we're getting real close too," Bones admitted, heaving another sigh. "Sorry. To him, I mean... Forget what I said."
"And the Ravs will shoot him on sight if I do bring him over."
And Crane furrowed his brow even more. All the more reason to avoid this group of hers.
"Right. Good point... He's still a special case. Never heard of an infected being sane again-"
"I'm not the only one."
That was information Jack would have appreciated being told before the call as she wheeled around, almost out of a jump.
"...But she's dead."
That was good to hear. She needed one voice in her head, not a million. "He said he's not the first."
"Wait. There's more?!" Bones shrieked.
"Was," Jack corrected him, hearing a sigh of relief from the other end. "But that means it's not a one-time case. Maybe even a pattern."
"You know how horrifying that sounds, right?" Bones exclaimed. "So… what should we do now?"
In the end, the brunette could only come to one conclusion. A conclusion Crane already knew she would make without hesitation or pity.
He clenched his fists tighter and prepared for the worst to come. Just get over with it.
"I'll look for another Candidate. If I found him, I can find another. Get those blood samples to you."
But the woman surprised him yet again.
It was a suggestion the Day Hunter never expected to hear from...frankly, her. In fact, it was almost too good to be true. By now, Kyle should have been gagged, tied up, and taken to this Ravs base. Instead, he was being given his space—a special case.
Seriously, wasn't she the one making a big deal about his condition being important and how both Harran and Scanderoon needed a cure?
"Yeah." Her companion had that faint hint of disappointment in his voice, but he didn't disagree with her proposition. "Yeah. I guess so. Same plan as usual."
"Same plan," she repeated with her cheery tone back into full swing. "See? That wasn't so bad, now, was it? If Asem had heard you yapping away, she'd send the calvary in."
"Uhhh...yeah. About that?"
"What?"
"Asem already sent Ender and Riza to the Coast."
The day just seemed to be adding new things the ex-kickboxer never asked for. Her entire body tensed—her frustration sealed tight from exploding but manifested through her hands wanting to throttle something. Because that was a sentence she really didn't want to hear.
"But of course, she did. Of course!"
"Hey, you went off the comms," Bones countered.
How different the mood changed around Kyle. Like office 'humor' when outside was death and destruction. It simply broke the mold.
"I turned off the comms because you are all worrywarts!"
"Look, they'll be there by tomorrow-"
"Call them back."
"I can't. You know how Asem is when her mind's made up."
"She's gonna change her mind! The Coast is crawling with infected. They won't make it here safely without a boat-"
"Actually, they're taking the Tunnels."
"Oh, wonderful!" Jack uttered. "Send them back!"
"I don't like this any more than you do, Jack, but it's Ender. He knows how to avoid the infected."
"It's not just the walkers I'm worried about. It's GRE." She heaved a sigh. "Yesterday, we had a run-in into them… Bones, they're rounding up any survivor they can grab and bringing them to this Checkpoint. Infected or not."
The air took a turn—thick and heavy. Even for Crane, it was serious.
Things were spiraling in Scanderoon, and this new revelation made it worse. What were they planning to take infected pedestrians? And how far were they willing to go?
That worried Crane.
"Shit." The pause from Bones revealed he was processing the gravity of what Jack had just said. "You guys alright?"
"We're fine," she assured, pacing the small room. "Which is why I don't want any Ravens dropping in here."
"Yeah but-"
"No buts. You Ravens need to stay hidden. Not putting yourselves out in the open-"
"Jack."
The stern voice cut through the comms, halting Jack mid-step. She'd been so caught up in her pacing that she'd nearly forgotten the Hunter in the room.
"Hello to you too, Asem," Jack greeted, her tone suddenly light and chirpy. "How long have you been eavesdropping?"
"Long enough to hear that 'Hunter' talk. And about Scanderoon's situation."
Jack heard Freakazoid groan under his breath. "More of you?" But she ignored him.
"Ah-ha! That makes two people who've heard him now," she declared triumphantly. "I am not crazy."
"I've never been one to question your judgment, Jack."
"Good to hear that, love. Now call off your fleet."
"After everything you've told us, I'm afraid you'll need all the help you can get."
At least Crane was beginning to understand the hierarchy of this group. The other woman's commanding tone held great sway over the brunette and loudmouth. Both clearly respected her deeply. No doubt she was their leader.
The group seemed to have a system—structured, organized, and ready to act.
One the brawler wasn't fully on board with it.
"I do not want a Runner on my watch. We agreed that this assignment was mine alone."
"I did agree. But you're in Scanderoon. With GRE." Jack grimaced at that one 'little' setup. "Whatever they're doing, they're active in both cities now."
"Either they've gone rogue after their disbandment—"
"Or the authorities sent them back to clean up their mess," Asem finished. The same thought Crane had. News about the GRE had clearly spread, but the implications still felt deeply unsettling.
"Wait, it's been months!"
Crane's eyes snapped wide at the loudmouth's outburst. Months? How many months were they talking about?
Nobody answered for him.
"Why would the Ministry care after letting this outbreak simmer for so long? That's a huge red flag there," the young man pried.
"Don't think it's that simple, Bones," the woman in red added. "Besides Harran and Scanderoon, three other towns were hit."
Asem gave a heavy sigh. "Five locations in total... It's spreading."
Five. Crane sank deeper into his corner, the weight of the disaster pressing harder against him.
How had it gotten this bad?
"The Ministry of Defense is desperate," Asem continued. "At the very least, they haven't decided to eradicate us."
"Again," Jack cheekily reminded. She hadn't forgotten that one rumor months ago. "What's stopping them from dropping another bomb on us?"
"Whatever it is, it's something they want in both cities. And they're sending GRE to find it."
"The research."
Crane said that bluntly. He had been too fixated on the conversation, that he hadn't realized he thought that out or that his claws had curled into fists.
He had underestimated the Ministry's impatience. The one bargaining chip he had used to keep Harran from being obliterated—Dr. Zere's research—was no longer enough. They wanted it and now they were sending in GRE to find it on foot, even after he'd threatened that Ministry politician that the research would stay in Harran.
He never imagined that this was how they would take to the next level. He thought they had more time.
"What did you say?"
Crane's body tensed when he saw the woman glance back at him, the earpiece off her ear and her brow furrowed.
"...Nothing," he lied.
It worried Kyle that the lady took longer to let it pass. Did he screw it up somehow?
"Jack," the woman named Asem uttered, distracting Jack back to the comms. "I said they might be looking for something crucial."
"Oh. I didn't mean you. I meant-" She stopped herself. It wasn't going to help her case. "Nevermind."
"The point stands. GRE is willing to go to any lengths. And it's only a matter of time."
"Until the virus reaches the Capital. You sure know how to make a girl feel pressured on stage," Jack sang sarcastically, but with annoyance in her tone.
"Which is why we need to contact the Tower again."
"Just how much-" Crane began, then cut himself off when Jack glanced over her shoulder at him. "Ahem," he coughed awkwardly, pretending to clear his throat.
"They might have some idea what GRE is up to. "
Her gaze, hidden behind the shades, bore into him for another moment before she turned back to the call. "Alright. Go to Harran, find the Tower, get the blood samples, and find the cure. Simple enough."
"No. Your priority now is to stay in Scanderoon."
Jack's frown squeezed even thinner. "I'm sorry? I can still run the test in Harran."
"Yes. If you haven't crashed into the Coastline. With GRE running in both cities, it'd be too dangerous for you to traverse alone. You and your secret weapon are far too important." Jack knew that all too well, prompting her to gaze down at her armband, hiding that little secret underneath it. "They can't know anything."
"That isn't going to stop me."
"It's an order, Jack. You left the Outskirts without a Lifeline because I trusted you could handle it. But the situation has changed. So I'm sending Ender and Riza."
Jack was about to protest.
"To assist you on the sideline. That's it. No involvement in Bones' project."
"So that's the tradeoff?"
"It's the only tradeoff," their boss stated rigidly.
"You make this so bloody impossible," Jack grumbled. "Fine. But the first sign of trouble, I'm sending them back."
"Not until you find someone to be your Lifeline."
"Which is probably going to be never."
"Then you're all staying in Scanderoon." Final word. There was nothing more Jack could say against that. "And because we know how anxious you are with family, I'm sending a scout group to the Tower."
"Anxious? Me? Pft," Jack deflected. "My cousin's fine. Everyone at the Tower is fine. Tell her, Bones. What's that bloke's name they've been saying has been a hero there." She snapped her fingers, trying to remember. "Something Crane."
Crane froze, his eyes widening.
This got a lot deeper than he had liked. And awkward. The brunette's group even knew about him! And they referred to him as a hero—he was none of that, just a fraud and a freak.
Things would spell out worse if the Ravs figured out who their so-called candidate was.
He peered towards the balcony door. It was cracked open, just enough for a quiet escape. If he moved now, he could slip out without anyone noticing.
"Um…" the young lad hung with hesitation on the line. "That's what they told me."
"When was this?" the leader asked.
"Three months ago?"
Shit! Three months?! Crane bit on his lower lip. Was that how long he was out?
"And when was the last time we heard from them?"
Bones had no choice but to answer. "...A month after our old base was overrun."
The weight of that revelation fell hard. The brunette's confident front cracked as she shifted uneasily. Her fist curled, trembling as if she was about to hit something. But when the anger fizzled out, all she could muster was a light tap against the wall.
Crane mirrored her unease, dread building inside him.
From everything Crane had pieced together, something must have happened in the Outskirts. Sometime, somehow, both sides lost communication.
He wanted to buy the woman's earlier false assurance from earlier—that everyone at the Tower was fine.
They had to be.
If it wasn't for the fact that it's been months... What has the Tower been doing without him till now?
"Talo will be the lead on this one."
Jack's stance shifted. "Talo. Your second-in-command. You're sure that's a good idea?"
"I wouldn't have chosen him if I didn't think he could handle it. He'll find them," Asem said firmly. "For now, focus on those blood samples and stay away from GRE. Everything else is secondary."
Jack mulled it over for a beat before scoffing and crossing her arms. "You know it's not in my nature to turn a blind eye."
"I know. We'll keep you in the loop," Asem replied. "Besides, you already have your hands full."
Jack frowned, then seemed to realize what she meant. "Whoa, wait a minute." She jabbed a thumb toward the Day Hunter. "It's bad enough I'm hearing him talk, and you want me to stick with Freakazoid here?"
"Hey, I don't like this either," Freakazoid complained.
"I want to know just how advanced this 'sentient' Hunter is. And I imagine he's more open to you than he would with us."
"Of course. Took a lot of convincing not to kill me."
"So that...that hickey," Kyle added, stumbling over the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "That was intentional?"
The expression Jack gave him said it all: well, duh. Her exaggerated eye roll only added fuel to his irritation, prompting a groan from the frustrated Hunter.
This woman...really played him for a fool!
"You're giving him a chance," her leader continued. "And he's shown to take it. That tells us there's a lot more we don't know about this infection. And...this is to confirm a theory of mine."
"Sounds like you have an idea what he is. Care to share?"
"Nothing tangible yet. You might call me crazy," the leader droned dryly, a drawback to Jack's earlier conundrum. "For now, we'll give him his space. You observe him. See how far he'll go."
"You mean the killing part, or the 'sentience' part?"
"Hey," the Hunter whined. He had some self-control, didn't he…? Maybe.
"That's for you to decide," Asem said firmly. "You can determine if he's a threat."
It was an agreement the brawler clearly was open to, with a light "hm" out of her mouth. What 'space', Crane thought bitterly. She was going to murder him on the off-chance she even thought he was dangerous.
"Who knows. Maybe he can prove to be a great help to us."
"He won't be replacing me if he does, will he?"
"You want me to? Because I can." Again, Freakazoid's taunt was ignored.
"No one can replace you, Jack," her boss reassured her with a tiny, almost inaudible laugh. "Be careful out there."
"Always will."
The conversation left Jack in a quiet fit and a bitter taste in her mouth. Now was the waiting game—it wasn't her style. But sometimes patience was a virtue, and busy hands made a distracted mind. She'd find something to occupy herself with soon enough.
Freakazoid, on the other hand, didn't like the idea of patience. Waiting meant people were dying.
Crane laid out the points in his head, one by one. It's been months. The Tower had gone silent. And this group—these Ravens—knew about the Tower like they were old neighbors. Before Kyle parachuted into Harran? Or after he headed to the Countryside?
He didn't have answers, and in his current state, asking anyone wasn't an option. So what? A Safe Zone gone radio silence could only mean one thing.
A dead zone.
Crane couldn't and wouldn't believe that. If the Ravens were still trying to reconnect with them, then there was hope.
There was enough reason for Crane to go back. Enough to stop being scared of his problems and fear.
"And where do you think you're going?"
The sly voice cut through the air like a whip, halting him mid-step. Jack wheeled around brazenly to catch him in the act.
One other problem he didn't want following him like his shadow.
"...It's none of your business," he deflected.
"It is when you're a talking infected. I got my orders, mate."
Orders. He could tell she wouldn't back down. The more he listened to her, the more provoked he felt—more so than with that chatterbox on the comms. She was one of those kinds of people. The smug, proud kind who wouldn't shut up. Even if one were to tell her to, she would keep yapping.
Funny, she reminded him of Rahim.
"So keep an eye on me," he said dryly.
"Rhetorically speaking."
Crane grimaced at the smartass comeback.
"Good luck with that." He'd be gone and far away from her-
"You know you're being tracked, right?"
He groaned. Loud. Angry. He hadn't forgotten about that. It didn't help how confident the red-jacketed lady behind him was—there was nowhere to hide from the Ravs' eyes.
This was dangerous for him.
"Might as well accept it and move on," she said with infuriating certainty. "You saw how well our chase went."
"Oh, you were really catching up," he mocked. The number of amateur mistakes she made would put pro runners to shame. "I'm surprised you haven't turned up dead yet."
"What can I say. I'm gifted."
"Sure," he grumbled. Never had he met a woman with an ego quite like hers. "Don't you have something else to worry about?"
"Yes. And that includes you. Orders are orders," she droned, as if speaking to a talking infected was the most normal thing in the world. Or maybe she had simply adjusted to her new reality far too easily.
"Orders. Right. Basically, you're someone's lapdog."
"I'd like to call myself the underdog. Has a nice ring to it."
"Yeah. This isn't working for me. So I'm just gonna go." He pointed to the balcony.
"Excuse me. A minute ago, you begged for help. And you're in luck. Mad Jack, retrieval expert. At your service." She swept her arms outward in a dramatic flourish before taking a theatrical bow.
Kyle could see it all right; she loved the spotlight.
"I think I'd have better luck dealing with a Demolisher," he muttered. "Hell, I'll let one stampede me while I'm at it."
"Harsh," the brunette blurted. "At least I'm offering."
"Right. Offering. I know well enough that means being asked for something in return."
"Tough crowd," she hummed. "Had trust issues in the past?"
A lot. Enough to fill a library. But there was no way Crane was going to give her the satisfaction of any answer.
"Wow," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "How shy can you get? If I'd known you'd be so hung up on a little smack on the lips, I wouldn't have done it."
"I am not-!" His voice cracked. "Nobody in their right mind would bite someone with the Harran virus!"
"Neuro-linguistic programming. Honestly, I didn't think it would work on you."
"Mind control. Great. I feel so much better."
Jack laughed softly. "Not brainwashing. Just the power of suggestion." Holy shit, this woman wanted the last word. It was like bashing his head into a brick wall, and it still wouldn't crumple. "Helps break down the barriers. Keep us on the same page."
"You mean making it easier for yourself," he retorted.
"If it stops you from biting my face off, then yes, it works, Shy Guy."
"Sure. Look. I can see you're very busy. So how about we forget we ever met, ok?"
"Really?"
Yeah, Crane could see how dumb that was. He had particularly laid bare to her.
"Alright. What exactly is wrong? You wanted help. Now you don't want it."
"No offense, lady. It's…" Kyle trailed off. The real issue was her. But outright saying that felt more offensive than he intended. "The whole monster thing. Just because I'm lucid now doesn't mean I can't hurt you."
"That's a lie if I ever heard one. Just say you have a problem with me, Freakazoid."
Damn. Wasn't going to be easy with this one.
"Look, As much as this has been...insightful," Crane wasn't too sure if that was the best word to choose, but a nod from the lady seemed to say that it was. "You can't help me."
"That's a big assumption. You haven't even given me a try."
"No, you literally can't. You're stuck here." The sting of admitting it settled in. But Crane knew the truth—he had to bite his tongue and take what he could get. "... And I can't stay in this city."
Again, the reality hit him. A day and a half in Scanderoon, and he'd already taken lives—by choice or not. Worse still, the feral beast inside him had likely done far more damage than he could ever admit.
"You're heading to Harran then?"
Crane flinched. And that slight jerk was a yes to her.
"That's the next best place for someone like you to go… And if I have to guess…you originally came from there."
Crane was dead certain there was more to this woman in red, and it actually frightened him. She wasn't a defenseless survivor he had pegged her to be. No, she was bad news. The probing for the right answers, the 'power of suggestion'—her tongue was sharp and silver. One wrong move, and she'd have him dangling off her every word.
"Were you someone from the Slums?" she pushed another button yet again.
If she followed him, it would lead her straight to the Tower. The Ravs were still an absolute mystery to Crane but the real risk was her. A talkative lady like her could spill the beans for him.
He could see it, all right. Her yelling, "Hey, guys. Your so-called hero, Crane, is now a freak of nature!"
No. He definitely needed to cut ties with her, somehow. And no one from the Tower could know what happened to him.
He had to lie.
"I… I don't know. I don't remember."
"You don't remember or you don't want to remember?"
The latter but he stuck to his act. "I don't know who I am. My name. Everything." It was the best lie he could muster on the spot.
"Selective amnesia. That would be a problem for someone back from the dead."
"Yeah. It's already hard enough figuring...this out."
"And you think you'll find your answers in Harran?"
"Yes. Maybe." The first answer came out sharper than he intended, a clear signal to stop her probing. The second, he wasn't entirely convinced himself that Harran would have his answers. "And I don't need a babysitter."
There had been floral curtains covering the balcony's door, creating a sense of dimness in the room. In his frustration, Crane yanked one sheet open-
"Grmph!" The sunburn got to him immediately, and he scrambled back into the shadows. "Hmmmph!"
Damn sunlight! How long before the day was over?!
Watching the Day Hunter cower down was a little pitiful to Jack. The smell of burning flesh hit her nose, and she instinctively covered her nose for a second. How on Earth did he manage to live this long?
"All the roads are blocked and we're surrounded by water. Only way to get to Harran is by boat."
"Then I'll swim if I have to," Crane scoffed.
"I'm pretty sure the infected can drown," she pointed, earning a low, grumpy groan. "And there's GRE. If they find out about you, they're gonna wanna catch you, mate."
"I'm prepared." Freakazoid tugged down one of the curtains entirely, a tiny, almost smug glint in his eyes as he examined the fabric. Blackout sheets. Perfect.sheets.
"You won't survive on your lonesome."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Crane's tone was dry, bordering on sarcastic as he worked on turning the curtain into a makeshift cloak. "But I know what I'm doing."
"Alright, but are you going to get another chance at being heard?" Jack pressed.
"Why do you care?" he snapped, turning back to face her.
"About you? I don't," she replied bluntly, her tone sharp. "I have every right to kill you if you so much as think about eating me, Freakazoid."
Awfully accepting of her to say that, though it grated on him all the same.
"But our goals are the same. As it stands, you need us to solve this mystery of yours. And we need you to help us solve it."
"Oh really?" Crane took a step closer, looming over her with his monstrous frame. He had to admit, she had guts—not a single flinch from him. His voice dripped with spite. "So it's either your group or GRE."
"We're a better option than them."
"Better," he echoed mockingly. "Your boss sends you out on a suicide mission with no backup. I've met enough people at the top of the chain to know where this is going."
"Sharp ears," Jack jousted. "You have a problem with authority?"
"When they're being a pain in my ass."
"You're quick to judge, mate. We're not GRE."
"Yeah. Your people made it very clear they want to open me up."
"Now you're exaggerating-"
"How am I exaggerating?!" His real voice and not his inner voice cut her off.
It was thunderous. Crane watched the brunette go on the defense most subtly as she tightened her grip on her crowbar. Her reaction was warranted, no matter how calm she stayed. Just like the two Runners that night.
But he couldn't hold it back. Kyle couldn't keep being afraid he would scare her away.
He had to tell her: whatever crusade she was on was a fool's errand!
"I don't know a damn thing about you or this faction of yours," Crane spat. "And you go around saying you're searching for a cure?"
"Because someone has to do it. We're against the clock-"
"That's exactly the point! We're already past the deadline. Look at me!" His voice cracked as he gestured to himself—this horrid, mutated body. "This is what a cure did to me! What makes you think your lead won't just end in another dead-end?!"
The woman hunched up an eyebrow. She clearly had no idea what he was talking about. But she remained firm in place.
"Is this what you are looking for?" he continued, his voice trembling with anger. "Because here you go! There is no cure! So keep your heroics to yourself and stop dragging others into your mess. Because you're not helping anyone!"
Stop chasing a dream. Stop becoming like him. Those were all the things he wanted to tell her. She'd only end up like him!
"I'm not gonna make that same mistake again."
The brunette was quiet, taking his outburst as he breathed heavily. Let her soak it all in.
"...So you're gonna sulk and do nothing?" she asked, her voice soft but cutting. "Not even help us a little?"
Crane scoffed. Why was this woman so stubborn?! "Help you? Why should I trust you?!" All of his anger had finally spewed out. Laid waste to her.
"The feeling's mutual."
The sheer bluntness of her words surprised Crane. And what she said next hit even harder.
"Because I don't know who you were. Or what you're gonna become from here on out."
That did him in. Her calm, collected response left him with a burning distaste in his mouth.
What he was going to become…
He balled up his claws. Not hands, claws. The thought had never crossed his mind until she said it right to his face—he had just regained his humanity so what was the next step? What else could he turn into? End up like the Mother, a deluded infected with a twisted agenda to kill off everyone in Harran?
Or something far worse?
He swallowed. For the first time, Crane faced the grim truth: there was no salvation for him. No hope of being human again.
Why did he think this brunette, or any other person, could help a monster like him? He shouldn't have even tried.
"I should have never saved you."
The words slipped out before he realized it. The bitterness, the exhaustion, the frustration—it all spilled over. But as soon as they left his mouth, he regretted it. Her expression, even hidden by those shades, told him the comment had hit its mark.
Guilt clawed at him.
And then, she smirked.
"Oh, you're gonna be a very interesting character," she said.
"What?"
She gave a nod, casual as a sailor bidding farewell. "Alright. Thanks for your leads, mate," she said, looking very relaxed in the room. "Be seeing you around."
"Wha..." Did this woman hear anything from him?! "Did you hear anything I just said? What leads?!"
Crane couldn't hold it in, both thought and voice spurred out as one. He literally wanted to knock some sense into her.
"What is your fucking problem?!" he roared.
"My problem?" she hummed. Daringly, she closed the space between them, enjoying the Day Hunter's hissy fit. "Why don't you go and find out?"
It was a taunt. A lure. A mystery box waiting to be opened up but she had every bit of confidence that he would never uncover the secrets.
He didn't want to. He didn't want to care about her anymore. Let her go find those vials and get herself killed.
Crane was done.
The only thing that mattered now was getting back to Harran.
"Forget this... I'm leaving."
"Alright," she casually replied.
That stopped him. Oh, no! He wasn't going to let her persuade him! "And you're not going to follow me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Good!"
"Glad we've come to an agreement, Freakazoid." Her annoying grin mocked him.
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" It was insufferable! She really wanted to have the last word!
Without another retort, he was out the window, the black-out curtain being his shield. Across the roofs and eventually, he disappeared from sight
Jack was alone. No more voice in her head—just the stiff, uneasy silence of the room.
She admitted to herself, it had been an interesting encounter. Not quite what she had imagined from start to end but she would be lying to herself if she didn't find it a little intriguing compared to everything else.
And yet...it was strange.
"Five times. Five times and you haven't dropped dead from my secret weapon." Jack walked over to the open window, casually adjusting her sleeve again.
Bones and Asem had a point, and she couldn't deny it. But while the Grad anticipated a groundbreaking discovery and their boss approached it with calculated curiosity, Jack had a foreboding feeling in her stomach.
Because she herself saw a big difference between the small infected fry she had killed with her secret weapon and Freakazoid overcoming it.
That 'hickey' Freakazoid was fussing over... He should have died.
But he didn't.
"Just what are you?"
A/N: 17/11/19 Both revamped and reedited this chapter. This chapter was unexpected in its revamping. One being it was more dialogue and less action, something I thought readers might not be fond of. So don't hesitate to call out if you think it's too much blabbering. But it is a lot better on the interactions between Jack and Crane (in more ways than one ahem).
*I've also put in the disclaimer. Sometimes actions in a lot of fiction, whether original or fan, can be taken out of context and I felt that a disclaimer was in order. Quite frankly, I really don't see such a shipping between...well, these two. More like whether or not they'll likely kill each other. If it was... maybe fifteen years, then maybe. Just a maybe. And that's if these two would live that long enough to hold a relationship. Regardless, there will not be any sort of protagonist shipping in the Descent. Plus, Jack's an asshole.
Moreover, imo, a shipping always depends on two characters' interactions and development between them. And it's something I rarely do at all - mostly because it's either "nah, wouldn't work" in my head or that I've seen readers dislike oc shipping. A lot. So it really takes a lot of convincing to me if something works between two characters. The problem regardless is some people can take way too far so I'm just putting this disclaimer down, in case.
I also would like to inform you all, I have a tumblr blog for this fanfic. Because AO3 and FFN doesn't really have a way to notify which chapter has been revamp unless it's new, I am using this blog as the notification. Any major updates, I will announce it over in the blog only. Please follow there for any of those chapter announcements and even little things I have in plan for it. Link: dlthedescent tumblr (because FFN doesn't like links)
I also want to thank Cian from the Dying Light fan discord group for helping me come up with a name for a character: Masha the Cannon, a Russian kickboxer mentioned in Chapter One. Thank you very much for the names!
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this revamped chapter. Please review and feel free to give constructive criticism.
PS. I find it amusing Jack called Crane fat. Ahaha.
15/8/20 - Reedited for mistakes and errors.
7/2/21 - Added new lines, fixed mistakes and edited parts according to new timestamp from pilot.
9/2/21 - Minor edits and fixes.
13/2/21 - Added new lines.
19/2/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments.
29/3/23 - Changed title and went over chapter with edits, fixes and adjustments. Changed some motion parts in the hotel scene
3/1/23 - Final fixes and changes, I hope
19/1/25 - Reedted some parts to be more streamlined and removed some unwanted text.