Arc Summary: Kyle Crane is back. But not entirely as the same 'man' as before. The once Hero of Harran has found himself as a sentient infected in the city of Scanderoon—months since he left the Countryside. With his memories intact thanks to a mysterious reaction to an ex-kickboxer's blood.
He shouldn't be back. Now he's stuck, in his new, strange body. But after learning that this city has fallen like Harran and the virus has changed dramatically, Crane decides to once again take up the mantle, this time from the shadows, regrettably.
At least he's not doing it alone. But he has to make sure no one opens up the box of lies he left in his previous life… Not even Mad Jack.
ARC ONE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Chapter Summary
- A NEW DAY
Never in a million years did I think I'd have a talking, walking, murderous zombie as a client. That's something you don't see every day. But it'd give me a sodding chance to find out more about Freakazoid... And why he said that name way back. - Jack
TEN: NEW DAY, OLD MEMORIES
It was out of nowhere. The gears inside Crane's head took a while to register his current situation. Maybe it was from the lack of sleep or him getting used to his unfortunate predicament as a mutant freak. Or both. But the experience right now and there felt smooth. Fluent.
One minute, he had closed his eyes. The next, he was somewhere else.
He wasn't indoors. He was outside in broad daylight—no familiar landmark for him to tell where he was. No coastal tops from Scanderoon or Harran's cityscape. It was an urban back alley in the middle of nowhere, with flora harmonizing with the low-lying buildings around him. He could only guess that his whereabouts were in an outer part of a town or city.
How did he get here?
The worst part about everything was the street in front of him. It was filled with people. Normal folks going on with their day-to-day lives.
He should have turned around and fled; he was a danger to them, but instead, he didn't.
Because he felt out of place. The streets and even the alleyway he was in had no trace of an outbreak. There was no panic or chaos. No blood or piles of rotten corpses. It was as if there were never any zombies roaming around, looking for flesh to feast on.
No carnage.
No death.
It was normal.
Not this again. Another dream out of one big nightmarish dream? Was his already-fractured mind trying to trick him? Or bring back a sense of normality in his confusion?
Then he caught a glimpse of her. Walking among the people along the pavement.
"Jack?"
It was only a quick glimpse before the brunette disappeared around the bend. Curiosity, and most of the anxiety of being left alone in the dream, got the better of him as he exited the alley.
And there she was, her back to him. In a clean set of clothes to beat the Harran's heat. No red jacket with the wolf pattern, but that schmuck, bold posture was definitely hers.
"Hey. Jack!" he called. He needed someone, a familiar face, to explain to him. Make sense of what was going on.
So she stopped.
"I know you're there."
He froze up. "I wasn't hiding from you-"
"Spying on the opposing team when she's off the clock. You've got some nerve. I'll give ya that."
"Hey, now." Why the sudden distancing? And what was with the jargon-?
"Won't your sister be mad?"
Sister?
"Pft. She's not my mom and neither are you."
Kyle's heart sank at the sound of that voice. He recognized it as clearly as the first day he heard it. Crane spun around, almost losing his stability. And immediately, he stopped himself from losing it. Because standing not too far from him was a ghost of his past.
Rahim.
It was him. It didn't matter if the young man wasn't in his usual get-up, not even with his trademark goggles. It really was him. That cocky son-of-a-gun with that stalwart spirit of his. Looking at him with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. It almost broke Crane that guilt came rushing back to him full-blown.
"Rahim-" He reached out a hand. A normal, human hand.
"Please. If I were your mother, I'd kick you so hard, you'd land all the way down under."
"I'd like to see you try."
Then everything became unnatural to Kyle again.
Because Rahim ignored Crane. No. He didn't see Crane. One more look on Rahim told him something was off. Everything about this was all wrong. Rahim looked a little different—three or four years younger. Maybe finished high school some time ago.
Crane turned back to the person Rahim was talking to. The same woman Crane saw in the office.
No, wait. That was still Jack.
The scars Crane remembered she had—the knife cut across one side of her face, the aggressive scratch marks across the other—were gone. Especially the bite marks on her arms or neck. Her auburn hair wasn't tied back in its usual ponytail but instead trimmed to medium length, casually framing her face.
This version of Jack was different from Mad Jack. Languid. Normal, even.
She looked like someone who hadn't been through hell and back.
For a second, Crane almost believed it wasn't her. He could have also mistaken her for her normal twin.
But it was.
And just like Rahim, she didn't see him either.
Crane's entire existence between the two was nothing but air. It wasn't Rahim who was the ghost here—he was in this dream.
An entity misplaced in a different time.
"Do you always talk to your parents with that mouth of yours?" Jack rebuked. The same usual tongue-to-cheek tone.
"You ain't family. So you don't get all chubby with me," Rahim huffed, puffing his chest like he always did, stubborn and cocky.
Some things about Rahim never changed, not even here.
Jack laughed, completely unfazed by Rahim's attempt to act like the 'big man.' The young lad visibly deflated, seeing his attempt fail.
"Where was this spunk when you were at the gym? You didn't give me any lip back then."
"I was only being polite because Jade was there," Rahim shot back.
"Riiiight." Even Jack could tell how much of a lie that was.
"It's called manners. Something you don't seem to have."
"Hm-hm." Says the lad being rude, but she let it slide. "So why are you here? You obviously have something to say."
Rahim stayed quiet, his silence betraying him.
"You're a mind-reader now? Gonna show some magic tricks next?" He flashed out his hands with a dramatic flair.
Jack could do one better.
"It was a fair fight."
Rahim flinched in response. No way. He hid it well, he must have thought. Or was he right?!
He never thought of how easy it was for Jack to read the frantic changes in his mannerisms.
"There was nothing wrong with yesterday's match," Jack continued. "Ask everyone."
"...That stunt of yours wasn't fair," he finally spoke up.
"And? Jade's wasn't fair either. Neither of us won in the end."
"That's not my point," Rahim barked. The statement made Jack pause, studying the boy a little more. Peeling back the layers to understand his real motive for approaching her. She gave a soft chuckle at the realization.
"Protective lil' one, aren't you?" Jack hummed. And before he could even angrily rebuke that comment, she wheeled away.
"Don't call me little - hey!" Rahim bolted forward, blocking her path. "I'm definitely as tall as you!"
"Really now?" Jack smirked, cocking an eyebrow as she swished her hand from the top of her head to Rahim's dome a couple of times. Just a centimetre off. "Give it another year or two. You'll catch up."
"What are you, twelve?" Rahim barked, swatting her arm away.
"Says the one here acting like he's fourteen."
Rahim scowled, glaring daggers at the brunette. He wanted to fire back, but he held himself back—something the Rahim Crane knew never did. Was it out of restraint? Manners?
Jack, of course, had no such filter, even when her opponent hadn't thrown a punch yet.
"Fifteen?" she teased.
"Sixteen, actually," Rahim snapped, as if that would be his winning recovery. "Birthday was last week."
"Well, Happy belated Birthday. Piece of advice: work on a proper comeback next year," Jack exclaimed before turning around and walking away. The end of the conversation.
"H-Hey!"
And right back, Rahim blocked her path again.
Jack's turnarounds had indeed put him tongue-tied. Of course, he couldn't let it go. He puffed himself up. Trying to look tough, but there were subtle moments: like the timidity of a little hare under a disinterested wolf's shadow.
It was there that Crane noticed something strange. The way this Jack talked…was quite different from the way Present Jack talked. It was less...crazy? Less brash, even. Her smile wasn't as Cheshire-esque as her present self, as if her playfulness was toned down.
"You got a problem with my age?"
Nice bait.
"I just think you have better things to do on this fine afternoon," Jack countered. "You didn't come to me on your sister's behalf."
Rahim jerked his head back, glaring at her. He could tell—this was a verbal snare Jack had laid out just to see if he'd trip. "Just because you're famous, doesn't mean I gotta be all 'nice' to you."
"Oh. I'd rather you don't," she mused, stepping just a little closer. Rahim tensed, hands snapping up instinctively—like a rookie fighter bracing for a sneak attack from a pro. Jack caught the reaction and let out a soft chuckle. "I like this spitfire attitude of yours."
The way she said it—it wasn't a compliment. More like she was sizing him up, watching him stumble into her trap.
Rahim's eyes narrowed. His pride bristled.
"Okkkkay. Backing away." He tried to play it cool, a big step back. "I think I've had my fill for the day."
Jack burst out laughing—loud and full of mischief. "You've got a long way to go before telling me off, lad."
A test. It was just a test. And Rahim walked right into it.
Rahim crumbled up his frown. "H-Hey! Don't go blowing your load!"
"Then you should have seen it coming, mate."
"Of course, I did. I-I had my cards ready," he defended childishly.
"Do I really need to talk to your mother about you?" Jack folded her arms. That little scare should have made him bugger off. How persistent could he be?
"Oh, shaddup," he snapped, strangely angrier and out of the blues. "She's in no good condition today."
Jack hunched her eyebrows in puzzlement. Good condition? "Is she all right?"
Rahim realized his mistake on the spot, curling up his lips. "...Forget I said anything."
No, she wouldn't forget it. Her whole stance told Rahim so.
That made him more fidgety. "Look. I didn't see you, ok? Pretend you didn't too." He waited for a response, hoping for Jack to accept.
The waiting was torture. Worse was the silence from the talkative woman. Jack wouldn't stand down, so eventually, he gave up.
"...She's at the hospital... Medical reasons."
"Ah."
And here it comes. The line he hated the most. Everyone was saying sorry to him when it wasn't their problem. Rahim's gut twisted. His whole body hunched down, doing all his best to make him smaller.
It wasn't the first time he heard those words. He simply despised them.
"Hope she makes a speedy recovery."
One of the many daggers he anticipated to hear didn't come at him, but it did leave a hole in him. One glance at the brunette, though, stopped him from lashing out.
Her expression was an odd thing to see. Like most adults who first heard about his mother's condition, they cast out a sad, pitiful expression. To Rahim, those faces really looked two-faced. Nobody outside his family cared for the longest time. Some would laugh or mock him behind his back.
Jack, however, looked serious and sincere. Both in the meaning of her words and in her ways. He couldn't put his finger on why she had that sort of face. It was as if she had been on the same kind of path as he was now.
It irked him to ask a small question. But he didn't.
It didn't help that the silence between them hung so much that it made him fidget. A lot.
"How are you and Jade handling things? With your mother, I mean," Jack broke the silence first.
He almost wanted to say, "Who wouldn't be handling this?". His mom wasn't doing well. But like always, he gave the little white lie, "We're doing fine."
"What about your father?"
"Dunno. Died when we were young."
"...Sorry to hear that."
"Pfh," he scoffed with a tint of anger in his voice. Now he let it out. "What's there to be sorry about." With one huff, Rahim managed to shove that little box of emptiness in his heart before it would get the better of him.
It was the silence that made him notice how firm and patient Jack was. She waited. A total stranger he came across wasn't changing the conversation. So that it wouldn't be all so weird to anyone. That it would 'make them look better' but not make him feel better. Honestly, it helped give Rahim some space and a moment to be calm.
Jack waited, until Rahim was all right to speak. He finally asked the question he had wanted to ask the entire conversation.
"You're...really going to fight Jade, aren't you?"
Jack was emotionless, indifferent to the question.
But she understood.
"Well… We signed the contracts. Can't back out of them." Rahim's face was telling. At first, Jack thought it was out of worry over his dear sister. But now, it didn't seem much like the main point. "Your sister has been in fights before. The next one isn't gonna be any different."
"Of course. She'll wipe the floor with you," Rahim barked proudly. Was it to convince Jack? Or himself? "No questions asked."
That didn't sway her. "So what's the problem then? You don't want your sister to get hurt?"
"She's not weak."
"I never said she was. But something's bothering you."
Right on the bullseye. Rahim was hating the fact that Jack was a mind-reader. If only he knew—Jack wasn't telepathic. People just give the easiest patterns in their body language, no matter how small they were.
"...Can you blame me? You're Mad Jack. The Wild Dog. So yeah... I'm worried about her."
"Worried about her well-being or the aftermath?" Rahim hunched his brow. What was she getting on about? "It's not a life-or-death situation."
"I know that," he explained. Who would die from a match-
"She's trying to win the match for your mother's hospital bills."
Rahim hunched up his shoulders, casting a dark and irritated look down at the pavement. How did she figure that out?!
She sighed. So he was here to ask Jack to yield. That was his plan.
Which told Jack those bills were incredible high for a starting kickboxer to afford.
"...A lot is riding on this tournament. Lots of bets and shoutouts everywhere."
His hands curled tightly. The conversation left him baffled—it wasn't supposed to go like that. There was no way she could accept his request, either.
"But that's not my call. Your sister has to win this fair and square."
And he was right in the end. Not something he could agree with. "Right... Fair and square."
"You don't believe Jade will win?"
Rahim glared angrily at the experienced kickboxer. Now, she ticked him off. All the anxiety was gone the moment she said those words—gone like that. The Jack before him wasn't the terrifying woman he had seen on TV. She was a person who didn't have the right to question his sister's strength.
"You...you shut up! Jade's gonna win. With her hands tied behind her back!"
"That's right. And she'll do it the right way." The comeback caught him by surprise, even more so coming from a person like Jack—the kind of stories he heard about her. "Without her brother asking her opponent to step down."
That did it in. The young, arrogant adult was put in his place. What Jack said soiled his motive for meeting her. He knew that; he wasn't making it fair for his sister by doing this. At most, it was going to piss her off.
But family was important.
He felt ashamed that he wished he could dig up a hole and crawl in it. No hiding that guilt from Jack, however.
"Listen to me when I say this." Rahim didn't want to look back, but he eventually did, staring at those hazel eyes. "Going dirty in a fight isn't going to help anyone. Not you. Not for your sister. Or your mother."
She spotted his fingers tightening. Whatever this family was dealing with, it was a life-threatening problem. Jack wouldn't ask for more questions ort pry further into the young lad—it wasn't in her place to do so. He didn't need that pain scrapped inside any further.
"All you need to do is trust Jade. You said it yourself. She'll wipe the floor with me."
And the tension in his body slowly went away. The concern stayed behind. "Yeah...she will… But you're just as good as she is."
"Doesn't guarantee anything. We'll see who the victor is. Fair and square." Jack reinforced the two words—nothing but annoying scratches to Rahim's ears, regardless of how true they were. And Rahim reluctantly accepted her words. "Better that she doesn't become an example like me."
Rahim furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion. He found that sentence strange. An example? What did that mean? He was ready to rebuke that statement, to push on what she meant by those words, but when he looked up again, he twitched with a sliver of fright.
Jack's face hardened like a cold slab of concrete. But she wasn't glaring at him. It was something else in the distance, over the kid's shoulder, that had caught her attention.
"You should go home, lad."
He was about to tell her to stop calling him 'lad'. To ask her what was going on. But the change in mood urged him to glance over his shoulder. After all, there was a certain look he had seen once on TV and just recently. A hungry but apathetic glance the Mad Dog had on prey.
No. Not prey. Unwanted guests in her territory.
He counted four men. They stood out in a busy street with people. Tough, bad-looking guys that came from the bad side of the neighborhood.
"Don't look back."
Rahim turned back at Jack with a worried, scared face. But he obeyed. Quickly, he walked in the other direction as Jack went forward, hands in pockets and a look dark enough to scare off frail-hearted people.
"Miss Brecken?" one thug asked. He waved a hand to the alleyway Crane had come out from. Uninterestedly, she followed them in.
Jack got right into business. Like her present self.
"I take it Vlachos sent you?"
"He wants to talk."
"Of course. He always has something to talk about," she sang, irritated. "Here's my reply to his message again. Tell him to shove it up his arse, and find someone else to play tea party with."
The men didn't listen. In fact, their circle around the kickboxer tightened.
"Orders, miss."
"And I'm telling you to bugger off. Consider this a gesture of good faith. You lot can live for another day."
Some scoffed at her weak proposal. "Boss wants you. He never said he wanted you in one piece."
The threat was weak. Enough to make Jack chuckle. How sad.
"If you work for that man, you should know the kind of person I am. Take my offer. It'll be the last time you get one."
The brunette was ready to leave, but the men behind her tightened the gaps between them. One cracked his knuckles loudly, eager to pound her. Chivalry didn't matter when business was the first priority.
They didn't know her. Their first mistake.
Instead of that wolf-like toothy grin the present Jack would shine, the past Jack was so cold to the danger around her. She had been through this before, many times. Every thug Valchos sent was always old news.
Jack shook her head disappointedly. "...Nobody knows when to quit."
The man to her right cracked his knuckles. A first, slow step, then two quick steps forward.
Readable. It was all so easily readable.
She ducked swiftly. The opening was there—she sent a strong right hook right at the diaphragm, knocking him to the floor. The remaining men came charging in all together in an attempt to overpower her.
Sure, numbers were their advantage. Timing wasn't. The first man came spiraling towards her with open arms. But a lasso on one of those arms and throwing his body over Jack's shoulder took him down easily. The second guy came next, surely thinking her focus on his fallen comrade would give him a moment. He never saw the quick low kick to the shin that forced him to kneel down.
The third goon took a swing and suddenly found his fist parried, seeing a defensive move he had never seen from the brunette. Moreover, underestimating a professional kickboxer who knew Muay Thai. Jack locked his hands with her elbows from getting a grab on her and directed his own momentum so that he was forced to keep going with an extra boot to the back.
The last one, the speaker, wasn't as gung-ho as the others. He had prepared a weapon—a set of brass knuckles—while his mates took the time to fallibly distract Jack, one by one like dominoes, however.
The armed henchman struck. A miss. So he fired another. Biggest mistake to try and take on a fighter who could see his moves ten steps forward. A sway to the right and a sway to the left before Jack jabbed at him hard, knocking the wind right out of him. He didn't realize she was grabbing his arm and twisting it backwards.
A sickening sound popped from the joint. Pain surged through his body, and a blood-curdling scream shot out of his mouth.
"You bitch!" He hollered as he clutched his now-limp arm.
Jack held up her fists. Not a second had she not pried her eyes off her opponents, distancing herself to keep space between them. The first man had scrambled back onto his feet and battle-cried in another run.
A rookie mistake. He had a kick right at his face and a lost tooth.
In the midst of the men's bumbling failure to hurt one single woman, their leader hurriedly seized another weapon. The butterfly knife unfolded at the flick of his good hand. And yet, such dangerous sharpness didn't faze Jack when she was on full-fledged defense.
He attacked. A jab, and another, and another. Jack was swift, dodging all of them.
"Gaaaargh!"
Jack dove left. There was a nip of pain on her left cheek, but she completely ignored it. Panic was written all over her attacker's face—because in his mind, he wandered, why is she so calm?!
The big guy was actually feeling fear.
Another jab of the knife, this time frantic. Jack found her opening. She shielded with her arm and parried his swinging forearm. Before he could retaliate, she grabbed him—hands on the back of his head—and gave a sharp kick at his gut, forcing him down on one knee.
Then came the stomp. The tibia broke with a loud crack.
"AAAAAHHHH!" he screamed. Double the pain was unbearable.
One down. The other three men were still up. One of them was at the far back, cowering fearfully at the woman. He knew she wasn't someone to mess with. The woman didn't crack a smile during the entire fight.
The glance was deadly cold. A wolf on the prowl, itching to bite down. All her prey had to do was tempt her to attack.
Do it, her icy stare expressed.
The coward wailed and desperately tried to crawl away. And the fear crept on the other two to follow after him, not without picking the injured leader with them.
Jack threw away the rules from the ring the moment they picked a fight with her. People like them, like Vlachos, didn't deserve her fairness.
Then Jack turned and faced him.
Him. Crane himself.
"Wait. I'm not one of them-!"
It was already too late.
Her fist fired.
POW!
"Garh!" Crane screamed out a gasp, bolting up inside a dark place he was unfamiliar with.
Then it dawned on him, his mind reeling back that he wasn't at some unknown street. He was out of a terrible dream and back into the real nightmare.
What was that all about?!
Sleep should be the only bliss he could look forward to—the chance to be ignorant of his current dilemmas. First being a human trapped inside the thralls of an outbreak, and now a human trapped inside the body of a deadly predator.
Kyle certainly had hoped the second night would be better than the first. But instead of slumberland, he found himself rammed down by that vision.
He slumped back down on soft blankets while he put his palms over his tired eyes. That dream… It was so vivid. He was in the audience at a cinema, watching the protagonist go through the drama of life.
And why Jack? That was very specific for a dream. This wasn't exactly his first 'weird' dream. But like before, he pushed it aside. Maybe it was his mind trying to fill in the holes about this mysterious woman. Or his way of imagining what a 'normal' Jack would be like.
Whatever. It made him all the more exhausted.
Crane forced himself off and stretched his back. The personal chamber of an abandoned unit really wasn't comfortable, but he had to make do with what he could find, making his bed with moth-ridden quilts and a mattress. The room was far better than sleeping on a cold stone, and he didn't get any annoying Biters visiting him. The night before was about to fall on the two misfits, and Jack had to recover from the ship incident. She was only human; he wasn't. So with Jack hitting the hay at a safehouse that was sitting on top of an apartment, he might as well get some shut-eye.
That was the hardest. He had tossed and turned for hours. Thanks to his damn body, his own internal clock was screwed. It was more active at night than during the day—something he had noted the first night as a reformed zombie. And it particularly refused to listen to him and sleep.
Well, he would make it listen, whether it liked it or not. If he could keep to standard timing, he might eventually fix his internal clock.
The dream, however, took him by surprise.
Crane prepared himself before he exited the unit and climbed his way up to the safehouse. He kept away from the UV lights, of course.
He waited near the edge.
Five. Ten. Fifteen-
"Gaaaahmmm," out came a mutter first, then Jack out from her safehouse. She had her shades off, holding a hand over her eyes as if the sunlight revolted against her. The light had a more terrible effect on her than it did on him, a sentient zombie at that.
"You're not a morning person, are you?" He received an "I don't care" expression from the lady while Jack proceeded to rub the tiredness from her eyes. "It's already past noon."
"Aren't you the pot calling the kettle black," she counterattacked, with none of her oddbird personality shining through. "You look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
Damn. How sharp was she?! But Crane tried to riposte back right at her.
"Have you forgotten? Mutated freak here. Roams the night with an uncontrollable urge to kill?" he grumbled. "You got no excuse to be oversleeping."
"You worry too much. Just take a bite out of me if you're losing it. Be right as rain."
Again, that nonchalant manner. "You really don't have any concern for your own well-being, do you?"
"Please. I've dealt with much worse hooligans than you." Jack stretched out, hands together and high up to completely shake the rustiness out of her system. Awful-sounding cracks crept from her joints. Another day, another dollar to get through. Or in this case, another Antizin.
As she exited from the UV-shone premieter, Kyle dropped down from his perch. "So, what's the plan?" She didn't answer right away as she wore her shades on. "We're supposed to be testing that perk of yours on zombies."
"That's the plan," Jack replied. "Find four candidates that do react to it and get their blood vials. But do you honestly think one is going to fall into our lap just like that?"
"...I mean, you have a lot of choices." He waved his arm out as if presenting Jack to the zombies below.
"Now hold on there, cowboy. It can't be any common infected. These scrubs drop dead in the first ten seconds," Jack explained. "Some don't even bite back."
"I'm not-" He had to force himself not to finish that sentence. As funny as it was that she called him a cowboy—a reminder of the one guy who called him that once in Harran—it took a lot of restraint for Kyle to move on. "Ok… What makes a good candidate?"
Good question. What makes a good candidate?
"Well, Bones is very particular about one's winning points. How severe their mutation is. Has to stay alive for more than a few seconds after biting me. In other words, the kind of candidate we're looking for has to be someone like," she trailed off, glancing back at Freakazoid. Then she pointed a finger at him. "You."
Ah.
Right.
"It was rather lucky for you to jump into my lap the first time, so to speak."
"Don't think I can call our first meeting 'lucky'."
"Lucky or not, you became a prime candidate for us."
"Ok…" He lifted up an arm. "Sooo, do I need to give a blood donation or-"
"Weren't you against being a lab rat, Freakazoid?"
"I am! Yeah," Crane really did appreciate it: for a person seeking to, as Jack said before for his case, 'find a candidate, find this boat of hers, and be back home before sunset', she gave so much freedom to one sentient being. It was almost nerve-racking.
Not that he was complaining. Only her priorities were all over the place in the middle of an epidemic.
"But isn't this all about getting those 'antibodies'?" As much as he didn't want to be the subject of an experiment, Crane couldn't selfishly keep turning his head away from the possibility of a cure.
"Of course. I would absolutely stab the needle into you without a second thought." Omph. There went her brutal honesty again. "Until you started talking to me. Imagine doing the same deal with another sentient being like you."
"Ok… Even I'd be weirded out," he admitted. The notion simply opened a whole new book for Crane. It sounded...cruel, as funny as it sounded to him.
"You see? Plus, I know when I see a 'one of a kind'. Bones will know how to handle your lab report instead of leaving it to me," the brunette explained. "He was very eager about your condition over the comms."
"Yeah. I know. I heard."
"For now, you're off-limits until he's given you a proper rundown at his lab. And that's on your consent, by the by."
"So your radio boy is also the one looking into this virus? Wow. Your group is really stretched thin."
"We make do with what we have. And he's not a Rav. Can't see that lad jump into anything other than a petri dish. But he's brilliant, mind you. Head that he's like his uncle, a scientist."
"Brilliant. Sure. But yaps a lot."
"What do you expect from college students? They love talking an ear off about their favorite subjects."
"Yeah, I wonder where they got that from," Crane mumbled, eyeing dead at Jack.
She hunched her eyebrows together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He kept quiet, feeling a little victorious inside. "Ok. We look for another candidate...that's like me."
"Easier said than done."
"So what? We just wait?" he muttered. That was stupid, and Jack knew it! She had to!
"I'm not saying we wait. I'm saying we go hunting," Jack explained. "And what better way than for a Day Hunter like you to hunt Specials?"
Wait. What? "...I don't follow-"
"It's been like, what? A few days for you. You're already in your element." He frowned at the thought. But the next got him a little surprised. "Which means you know how a zombie like yourself thinks. You got that sixth sense of yours."
If Crane had been told to seek out infected when he was human, he'd say, "Are you crazy?". He had narrowingly escaped Volatiles. Now the brunette wanted him to 'hunt' them down.
"Whoa. Wait. Hang on. I'm still getting used to…" He waved his claws in air-circles, before directing them to his own body. "Whatever this is."
"But I'm not wrong that you're having a similar mindset like the infected, right? You might even learn a thing or two from those creeps."
"I don't want to learn. Anything. From being a zombie."
"I'm not asking you to be one, Beastly. You're above the rest now. All you need to do is find them how you think they can be found."
"Maybe but...that sounds like a goose chase to me," he groaned.
"Here's the thing, Freakazoid. You're not working alone." Her pace towards him was methodical but graceful, a step forward and the next forward in a fashion that said she had a dance in her step. "You hired me. The best specialist out there."
Crane didn't buy the confidence. He couldn't take her seriously. Tons of questions were still left unanswered: what did she mean by 'specialist'? But it ended by the sound of a call through the comms.
"Jack here."
"It's Siv. We might have a lead to your missing boat." The young female voice again.
"You have? Wonderful," Jack uttered enthusiastically, something Crane couldn't share. He was all too stunned to listen.
"People from the Orphanage said they spotted a boat along the canals. Could be yours."
"Does it have the name, Caroline? That's very important."
"Dunno. You're gonna have to ask them yourself."
"Well, a small lead is better than nothing. Where's the Orphanage?"
"Up north, past the memorial park. Can't miss it. They've been using it as a base since the outbreak started. I already told them you're heading over so expect some work there."
"And I'm happy to accept. As long as it's not unreasonable."
"Uhhh, you're probably gonna get some oddball jobs. Some of the people there aren't… They're a little difficult at times."
"Lovely." One could take it as a sense of sarcasm. Or masochism. Or both. No one could tell. She ended her call and knew where her goal was. "You heard the princess. Got work to do."
The Sandrine Orphanage was easy to find. In what was once an old, historical street of Scanderoon, the old-stoned walls made the structure stand out from the newly-renovated buildings surrounding it. It was home to children behind barred windows but unintendedly made into a stronghold for the outbreak. Extra methods of precaution had been taken with the added UV lights on the entrances and reinforcements to the courtyard's perimeter.
Perfect, indeed. No infected or human could break in.
"Hold it." The guard, weapon prepared, stopped Jack before the barricaded doors. Jack's hands held up—she wasn't a danger.
"You got a call from the Junction about hired help. Jack's the name."
Some exchange of words between more people at the back and she let in their safe zone.
Jack examined around her. It was about the same number of manpower as the Junction's—some of them looked like teachers before they had to exchange books for survival. Then there were the children, which was concerning. So far, she counted eight on her way into the Inner Court, age between five and thirteen.
"Hey."
A voice hollered to her from what Jack assumed was the reluctantly-appointed leader no less, by the administration office.
"Mahir did say he was sending a celebrity over. I didn't think he was serious."
"'Retired' celebrity. I'm nothing special," Jack said to the man.
"He also said not to take you lightly and put you to work," the man added, taking a step back to clean his glasses before introducing himself. "Babak."
"So. I was told you've seen my boat at some canals."
"It was. Yesterday. And I know who took it."
"Annnd you won't tell me until work is done."
His face was apologetic but it was back to being stern. In their circumstances, Babak couldn't be soft. "Sorry if I sound a bit desperate. But we really could use some help."
"Sounds like me and my partner came at the right time."
Babak was surprised, looking about. "Partner? Mahir said you were coming alone."
"Oh, he's new. Dropped into town a while ago. Kevin White's his name. Makes a very good watchman," she sold the alias, convincingly enough for the leader to drop his apprehension a little.
Crash! Clank! Clank!
The loud sounds put everyone in the Inner Court on edge, even Jack—enough for a spin on her heel and a prep in battle stance. The tension died out immediately at the sight of the fallen toolbox from a moving pushcart. The cart driver was a wide man in his thirties; his top showed that he was a previous Stuffed Turtle employee before he landed in the orphanage's walls for protection.
"Carl! I told you to be careful!" Babak snapped at the now-cowering man, who was quick to apologize and pick up the spilled tools and box. The leader sighed as if this was a regular and tiring thing. "Marvin wants you on cooking duty again."
The tone was much softer than the earlier outburst; he didn't mean ill-will to snap at the bumbling fool. But Carl was still apologetic. Very low self-esteem there. "Sure. I'll get on it. Sorry."
"It's ok, Carl… Take five before you go see Marvin."
"I see you got your hands full," Jack asked.
So very true, said Babak's tired face. "I'm just a Maths teacher. Not a soldier."
"No one's asking you to be one. But you folks being here are helping the children."
He nodded, pleased to hear a compliment like that. But the smile was short-lived. "These kids don't have any way else to go. Some of them aren't even orphans to begin with."
A sentence Jack already expected to hear. "Their parents left them here?"
"Not like that. But everyone knows that the Orphanage is the safest place in all of Scanderoon."
"Wasn't thinking that," she assured him. "What's the job?"
"Well. Lately, the children... They've been afraid of this thing keeping them up at night. We're already tied up trying to repair this place for the nights, and we don't have enough hands to deal with them."
Furrowed eyebrows raised up behind her shades. "Sooo you called me to be a babysitter or-"
"N-No. No. Nothing like that. I think this might be some zombie that's scaring them," the teacher explained. "We've also been hearing this...crying for days. Thought it was a person. So a few of our people here went on a search for him but...they haven't returned since."
"When was this?"
"Last week." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I've seen what those Virals can do but whatever this is...it doesn't sound like one. If you help us with this, I'll tell you who took your boat. I'll even get folks to help you bring it back."
"Any idea where these noises come from?" she jumped onto the details rather than accept the generous offer.
"No. Can never pinpoint exactly where." Babak thought for a moment. "But you can ask around. Nasia might have to have an idea."
"Nasia is...?"
"English teacher. She's usually in charge of looking after the kids."
"It's a start," Jack said. Someone inside the stronghold was bound to have a clue or two up their sleeves. "Let's make this place a little quieter for everyone to have a good night's rest, shall we?"
The man with glasses gave a slightly approving, and grateful smile.
"Jack."
Jack jumped at the voice in her ear, her utter equivalent to a party popper that couldn't pop, but a small sound did. Babak noticed it with surprised eyes.
It was the fright of her life, a very impressive one too. Now Jack regretted ever giving the comms to Freakazoid. The telepathic communication was one thing, but hearing him speak vocally was another. That hoarse, spine-tingling voice through the radio was an entirely different thing altogether.
"Sorry. Got a call," she said smoothly, and took several steps from any wandering and passing ear. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, Freakazoid."
He grumbled on the other end of the line. "Hey. It's not like I can change my voice. I can't 'speak telepathically' over the comms."
"Fair point. What's the problem then?" The 'hmph' was easy to hear. "You clearly have one."
Then the gruff came. But he went to the point. "Aren't you being too…"
"Too what?"
"Upfront with people."
"What's wrong with that?" she sang. "You gotta build trust in these hard times. How else are you going to get work down?"
"You-" He stopped himself, deliberately letting out a tired groan. "How are you like this?"
"It's who I am," she replied confidently, receiving more wordless protesting from the Hunter. "You heard the Grads. We have to build up our reputation in this city. Can't be unprofessional about it."
"Sure. And attract the wrong kind of attention while you're at it."
"I thought you wanted bad people to come."
A grimace out of him was clear and loud. "Also. 'Kevin White? Really?" he snapped. "What are you doing?!"
"What? I can't be telling anyone I have an amnesiac infected named Freakazoid with me. Wouldn't boat well for business. An alias should be fine for you until you remember your real name."
"You could have, oh, I don't know, not said anything!"
"You also said you needed a wingmate. That's what I'm doing. Would be unfair for them not to know who their aide is," Jack started. "And you do act like a Kevin."
"I -!" The low blow took the words right out of his mouth. "I do not!"
"Hm. Could have fooled me."
Grumble, grumble, went the grumpy zombie.
"Learn to lighten up, mate," she assured him, strolling further and further away from the Inner Court. "There's no harm in being a little open about yourself."
She expected a response riled out of him. Why, that statement wasn't a suggestion but another lure. See if he would take the bait and spill out a few more beans.
"A little friendship can give you some leeway in the long run," she continued to pull on the line.
"Uh...Jack?"
"Just have a little more faith. Maybe it can make things fun for your sodding arse."
"Jack! You got company."
Jack furrowed her eyes. There was nobody with her in the hall she found herself in. She wheeled around-
One correction, there was nobody at her height. Four, five sets of beaming eyes glanced up at her, putting her in a freeze.
The orphans. Their faces said either one of two expressions: in awe to meet the very person, Mad Jack, herself or warily curious about a new face inside the Orphanage. Their watchful gazes made her feel a little...awkward. Like the Wild Dog needed to be on good behavior with a bunch of pups.
And they didn't look like the kind that would leave her be if she said she had to go.
"Ummm...hello?"
And she was pounced with questions of all sorts.
It was an interesting thing to watch from Crane's vantage point, the next-door estate, twenty feet away—the smaller orange skeletons suddenly hopping on the bigger one. They've been starved for attention for so long that they latched onto a newcomer. It did give him a little bit of satisfaction to see the chatterbox be put in her spot.
After all, the questions bombarded her without giving her a moment to comprehend.
"Have you beaten up bad guys?"
"Uh-"
"Is it true what you do is fake? Ozan told us it's like wrestling."
"Who-"
"Hilmi said you bite people."
"No, I didn't say that!"
"Well, that's kinda-"
"How many zombies have you killed so far?"
"Do you do autographs?!"
"Do you have a favorite animal? Is it a dog?"
"Wait, hang on - Hold on! Time out! TIME OUT!"
And finally, the probing stopped at the panicked voice of Jack Brecken. It completely froze the tension inside the hall. Literally, the youngsters stopped dead with wide, frightened eyes. The brunette could tell this was a regular thing—the kind of read that these children have been told to stop misbehaving if they'd step on toes.
She almost thought she had made a mistake with her outburst, terrorizing the anklebiters. And she couldn't fault them for acting like so. Who had time to teach children about patience? They couldn't learn that on their own when the same was tested on men outside these walls.
Quickly, she swung back to her usual, cheeky self.
"First off. Yes, I have beaten bad guys. Kickboxing is real. Ozan has never seen a real fight to know better. And, ye-yesss?" She was unsure how to go about that question. "I've bitten a few people before. Don't try that. I've clobbered a few infected on my way here. Yes, I do autographs... And my favorite animal is actually the tiger."
Jack finally caught her breath.
"Any more questions?"
The children stared at each other timidly, hoping that one would spur out another question. They didn't want the new stranger to leave. But they were as quiet as mice. They didn't want her to be mad again.
"Heh." Jack smirked, breaking down the thick anxiety in the air. "Impressive. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." The seconds irkingly drew on. Still nothing but awe from the kids and nervousness from the adult. "...Sooo, one of you said autographs-"
And immediately, as jumpy as the Biters outside but livelier than the undead, the little ones leapt up and down on their toes. Some scattered for a piece of paper and a pen.
Yeah. One of the little things Jack missed during her old days.
One short boy had already gotten the first go, passing her a napkin and a red crayon he carried. With a swift go of her wrist, she signed her name and said, "here you go". Her smile stretched wider at the sight of the boy giggling wildly before he scrambled off to show his newfound toy.
It was touching. Annoyingly so to Crane. But he kept quiet. The little moment he witnessed was enough to warm up his closed-up zombie heart, but he also knew better. Jack relished the attention. And if it had been himself down there, well, he wouldn't know how to handle the children.
But he'd still try. He had tried, far better than most people he met along his Harran adventure. He had met parentless children in the safe zones and tried to help them out somehow. He did so quickly, because he was against the clock, just like everyone else.
That didn't mean he could ignore a child's needs over his mission.
The one surprising merit he saw in the Orphanage was that Jack was extremely patient with the kids. That gave him some comfort. Because the satisfaction sank away—another reminder again to him: he couldn't go down there like before.
He didn't want to add more nightmares to them.
"Hmph."
The scoff was tiny, but enough for even him to pick up from so far away. Enough for Jack to peer at one girl with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, around the age of ten to thirteen, standing a good distance from the crowd of children. Arms folded to show that she did not like the new stranger one bit.
"Would you like one too?" Jack offered.
"Not from an old-timer," the young girl replied snarkily.
"Harsh," she cooed, no offence taken by the smart insult. "What's your name, hon?"
The girl folded her arms. "I'm not telling you-"
"Her name's Lina. With an I."
"Shut up, Rashid!" the girl with the glasses snapped at the tattletale. He didn't care.
"Lina. Pretty name," Jack pointed. "I know a Lena. With an E."
"Nuh-uh," Lina immediately cut her down. "We don't take sweet talk."
"I'm being honest. The others would agree, right?"
A few of the girls around Lina bounced in accordance. Some of the boys were quiet, but they did see eye to eye with the name.
"What do you want?" Lina scoffed, annoyed by the crowd easily dropping on their knees for the newcomer. "You're too old to be playing with kids."
Brutal.
Jack held up her hands. She knew she was unwanted. "Looking into some rumors about noises at night," she explained, immediately seeing the children light up in a way that said they knew. "Know anything about it?"
The children turned to each other. Was it bafflement in their eyes that a grown-up was asking them about it? Perhaps, many times, the kids have been told it was a figment of their wild imagination.
"It's the Weeping Man!" the youngest uttered loudly.
Weeping Man? "Is this some Scanderoon folklore like the Bogeyman or-?"
"It's just a name. What do you want with him?" Lina asked, looking far more concerned than the other children. Also cautious.
"Heard he's been keeping you lot wide awake. So I'm offering my service to take care of it."
"You're going after the Weeping Man?" Lina frowned even more. "Yeah. Not gonna expect much."
Jack's eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. "Excuse me?"
"You're old news." Was she seriously hearing this from a child? "There's no way you can fight those Biters all the way here. And there's no way you can take care of the Weeping Man."
Jack swore she heard a chuckle, followed by a cough, in her ear. Oh, she was going to return the favor to Freakazoid.
"What is with children these days," she grumbled to herself.
"Yeah. I said it," the young girl snapped. "You stopped being a champion three years ago."
"Berat betted you to say it."
"No, he did not!" And she snapped back to one of the other kids—a lie clearly written all over it. She turned back with a point to make. "She can't even outrun them!"
"Ok, now, that's being ridiculous. How would I have gotten here then?" Jack interrupted the childish argument.
"Hey, I'm not the one talking my ass off," Lina spat at Jack. And the little curse slipping off her tongue made some of the younger ones gasp. She said a bad word, they whispered. A bad word!
"Language."
"Oh, c'mon! Who cares about that in an apocalypse?"
The only adult in the hall didn't budge. She tapped her foot several times, arms folded to show she wasn't yielding.
"Fine." Lina rolled her eyes. Teenage antics. "But there's no way you can catch the Weeping Man."
"I can most certainly try."
"No, you can't," the young girl snapped, her balled-up fists tightened to the point the knuckles turned white. "The last group who went didn't come back!"
"Aye. But I have a secret weapon."
The phrase stirred up the group, Lina being the only one unconvinced. There were whispers: was it possible, what kind of weapon did she have, all sorts of questions the lil' ones asked each other.
"You're bluffing. I don't see anything on you."
"That's why it's called a secret weapon," Jack whispered, a finger to her grin. "So. Can you tell me where you last saw him?"
Again, the children hushed up—an odd reaction for the Wild Dog to see. Even Lina didn't speak up at first. She pondered for a minute, deciding whether she should or shouldn't.
"We can," she finally answered, shocking the other kids. None interfered, however. "But not for free."
"Of course," Jack uttered confidently. "What's the catch?"
"You're going after the Weeping Man. You've got to prove that you're not rusty. Think you're up to it?"
"Nothing I can't handle. What did you have in mind?" They were children. It couldn't be too ridiculous-
"Hide 'n' seek!"
It caught both Jack and Lina by surprise. The four-eyed girl was about to answer, but the littlest one cut her to the chase.
"What?! No!" Nobody listened to Lina.
"Yeah! Hide 'n' seek!" the other smaller children chanted. "Hide 'n' seek!"
"There's no way she'll do that-!"
"She can't even get to the top, Lina. She won't find all of us," said the tallest boy in the group.
"I can hear you," Jack muttered. Just how many times were these kids going to kick her in the shin?
The group of children huddled together in their debating. Some agreed, others didn't, and some just wanted another game instead. Finally, a verdict was made among small souls.
"Alright," Lina started, obviously taking the lead. "You gotta find all six of us throughout the building. No asking the grown-ups, no cheating and no more tattletales," the last one was directed to the other kids, her glare reinforcing the motion. "Indoors only."
"Then you'll tell me where the Weeping Man was last seen?"
"I'll even throw a bone if you find all of us before lunchtime. Are you in?"
The ex-kickboxer pondered.
"Sure. Why not?"
The little smiles grew bigger. The cheers boomed loudly inside the dispirited halls of the Orphanage.
"Jack. What are you doing?"
Jack paced herself away from the bouncing scamps, a hand cupped over her mouth and earpiece. "Getting information. What else."
"You don't have time to be playing games."
"They're children. They've gotten enough discipline from these grown-ups and they don't need me doing that."
"You? Discipline?" Freakazoid mocked.
She frowned but ignored the jab nonetheless. "It's a game of hide n' seek. Ten minutes tops. I'll get my intel."
"Well?"
Jack glanced over her shoulder. The leader of the small group hadn't noticed her speaking over the comms—or from their perspective, notice an adult talking to herself.
"What are you waiting for?" Lina demanded. Quick to look frustrated when the brunette stood still, puzzled. "Count to 30 already."
"Alright, alright." Jack wheeled around to a pillar, eyes front. "1, 2, 3, 4."
She could hear the whispers and footsteps as she counted down. The hints were easy to pick up from the children's directions as they scrambled to their hiding spots. Some went to her left. Others went upstairs.
Out of curiosity, once she was at ten, she took a peek.
"No peeking!" Lina hollered.
"Fine." Jack turned back. "11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17."
She continued counting, even after it was all quiet.
"28, 29, 30." Jack turned to an inner courtyard emptied of bright-eyed children. "Here we go."
This would be a snap-
"Three on the first floor. First one by the stairs."
Jack staggered back, digesting what she had just heard. Did Freakazoid find them before she could?
She regained herself. "You know I can find them," she mumbled. Honestly, how frightening Freakazoid's pair of eyes were. From whatever ivory tower he stood at, he could clearly see everything inside the Orphanage.
The ground floor was the first; it would be most ideal for the smaller ones. Their short legs couldn't take them far enough so they would want the quickest spots.
"Found you."
"Aw! No fair," whined little Hilmi, hiding under the staircase near the kitchen.
"Don't be upset. That vase was a nice touch."
"Heehee!" The eight-year-old then hurried off to the inner courtyard, perhaps to wait for the others that Jack would find.
"Further down the hall. First door to your left," her companion told her, unable to notice her displeasing frown at this handicap she was given. Still, she did as she was told...
And then she stopped right outside the room.
"Really?"
"What?"
Now if Freakazoid had been standing where she stood, he would see the sign on the door. Of course, a boy had to pick that spot. Thankfully, nobody was nearby. People would get lots of ideas on Jack if they saw her walk in.
Not like she'd care, however.
"Hey! You can't come in here."
"And you should know better using a Gents' room as a hiding spot."
"All's fair between men and women."
"Where on Earth did you hear that from?" Jack asked curiously. This boy was around nine, not close to knowing such things.
"The lunch lady. I don't get it," Zeki said in his defense.
"That makes the two of us. Now run along."
He hurried off.
"I see one crouched down. Two rooms ahead."
Jack huffed out a sigh. Was he the impatient type. Moreover, the impatient zombie was ruining the fun. She had a piece of her mind to give him by calling him a buzzkill.
"Peek-a-boo," Jack sang as she ducked under the bed at a dormitory built up to compensate for more numbers.
"Heehee!" giggled Klara, the tiniest within the small group.
"Come here." She gently pulled the girl right up, with a little toss in the air and a little happy squeal out of her.
"Again! Again!"
"Next time, little pup," Jack whined softly. Omph, she felt her back pulled. Carefully, Jack brought her down and brushed the pesky dust bunnies off the girl's dress shirt. "Off you go."
The little girl vroomed out of the dormitory with arms spread wide, making airplane noises. Jack stepped out before stretching out the knot in her spine.
"...Still hard to believe."
"What is?" she asked quietly.
"That someone like you is actually good with kids."
"Oh? I suppose you were a father figure in your previous life?" she jousted
He clearly grimaced, only the line. Not in a way that she got him on a point. She wasn't any way close. "Can't remember," he tossed the lie to her.
"Right."
"What? You make a good parent? Think I remember you saying you didn't have children of your own."
Again, the spin. The detour and change of topic. But she entertained him regardless. "Never was the type to settle down. I just grew up with lots of siblings. Mighty close with a cousin too."
"Big family?"
"In a way, yes." That was a dodging answer that Crane couldn't get why it was. "I bet you were an only child."
If Jack could see his face, minus the scarf, she'd spy the thin frown he had.
"Again. Wouldn't know… Your guess is as good as mine," he said.
"Well. You were a child once. So was every infected out there before they turned." Arriving at a flight of stairs, she took a peep back to the ground floor before she would ascend them. "Children like these ones? They have the hardest time compared to any adult here. They're forced to grow up."
"...Sounds like you know from experience."
She smirked. Oh no. She wasn't going to fall for that trick in the book, Freakazoid. Not when his closet was still shut. "I don't know what you are insinuating."
"Hmph…" he scoffed, unsatisfied with that answer. But he was awfully generous not to push further.
Next floor, classrooms on both sides. If she were a child herself, however, classrooms were too big to hide in with the desks pushed to the sides. So the sickbay and a laundry room were left.
They were immediately scratched off her list once she gave a quick comb over. The adults would shoo out any child when they were tending to the injured. And the laundry room was a no-go when she saw the stocked weaponry inside. So she moved on-
"He's in the right room."
Jack stopped. Spun on her heel and loitered against the closet door.
"That's a clever spot of yours. But I think you shouldn't use this anymore."
She waited. Then the innocent brown eyes peeked out from the utility room.
"This one's ok. I'm not in the stockroom."
"Hm-hm. I'll give you that. But no more staying in the utility room. Ok? Much too dangerous to be near these guns."
Rashid fell quiet. "Are you going to tell on me?"
"No. I won't. As long as you tell the other children not to use this spot again."
Rashid nodded happily. Then he was gone. Four out of six. If only she could feel satisfied with the progress.
"Two of them moved up top."
"They said no cheating."
"They meant you. Not me. Upstairs."
Yap, yap, yap. She imitated the yapping with her fingers in the form of a duck's beak.
"I can see that."
"Just testing your eyesight," she chided before clamming up at the next floor. The ex-kickboxer had to trot carefully as the area was in the midst of being repaired. A constructor passing the time had just warned her that the wood had gotten rotten from the heavy rain.
So would the other two children be up there?
"They're still there. Up ahead."
Jack would have most definitely gone back to recheck the lower floors a second time. Without Freakazoid's probing, she wouldn't have noticed the boy by the door, gapped an inch open. That same boy was all too focused on looking to hear the brunette sneak in.
"What are you looking for?"
Liam jumped in his boots, almost tripping on himself that Jack had to catch him. It was clear that he had left his hiding spot, too distracted by whatever was beyond the door.
"Something's spooked you. Is it a Biter?" she asked in a non-mocking way. While it could have been played off as a joke, it did help lower the boy's tense shoulders down.
Again, he looked back and forth from the door to the brunette. "...Nasia is on this floor… She gets mad when we're up here."
"Really?" Jack sang. "I didn't see you at all. Must be her imagination."
The twelve-year-old boy was stunned. But he was smart to follow. With the woman in red quietly ushering him to head downstairs, he sprinted off.
Then he stopped.
"Lina's still on this floor."
Jack gave a nod and a grin, before shooing him off.
Now. The last kid.
"Two rooms ahead."
"Any more hints I'm going to be spoon-fed today?" she complained. But her pace quickened. The faster she'd find Lina, the better-
"-this is the fifth time, Lina!"
The harsh voice of a woman boomed through the floor. It was down the hallway, where Jack spotted the thirteen-year-old, glasses-wearing girl with a woman. Nasia, she presumed.
"You've been told before that you are not allowed on this floor! You're disturbing everyone here!"
"I'm not disturbing anyone. Ekrem and the others said I could come up again-"
"They need rest, not playtime! What are you really doing up here?"
"None of your business," Lina snapped softly.
A smart-ars—then Jack stopped that train of thought. A smart aleck, she should call Lina. But that didn't easily impress Nasia like it did to Jack.
It ticked her off even more. "...Do you think this is helping them? This troublemaking? You're making it wosre for their mental health!" she explained, something she has repeated many times to get it through to Lina's head.
The defiant attitude was honestly something to Jack. But to what expense was Lina trying to gain? She could have admitted the truth and saved herself some trouble. Jack could vouch for her and take the heat off. For some reason, however, the girl couldn't refrain from talking back.
"And what about you? J-Just because you know better… You don't! Babak, everyone will find out-"
"Enough!" Nasia snapped, letting the silence draw on. Only the sound of her heel tapping impatiently and loudly was all anyone could listen. "...I've tried everything to help you. But you seem insistent on ending up the same way your father did… Dragging everyone down with you.
...Really. What a waste."
From so far away, Crane could hear it crystal clear. Enough to provoke out a growl.
"That…" was all he could muster when he stood so far away from the one-sided conflict. It was uncalled for.
Even if everything around them had gone to shit, a child didn't need to hear that. That statement was distasteful—not directed at the kid but at her own father. It painfully stung the poor girl. No matter how firm she stood her ground, she was shaking. There wasn't a peep out of her but he could only imagine, watching her shake her tiny balled-up hands. She forced herself not to reach up to her eyes and wipe the tears.
Crane wished he was down there; he really wished, which made him all the more torn.
Then, all of a sudden, the standing skeleton of Mad Jack stepped out of her hiding place and hounded after Nasia in a slow, methodical pace.
"We'll discuss your punishment later-"
"Hello, hello." Jack's interference surprised the two, but she still shone out her catty grin in such a heavy atmosphere. "Might you be the headmistress of this Orphanage?"
"Who are you?"
"Brecken," she said. "Babak called for me. And your name is?"
"...Nasia. And I'm not-"
"Ah! Nasia. The right person I was looking." Jack immediately roped her arm around the surprised woman's shoulders and took her away from wide-eyed Lina. But Lina was given a wink behind the shades—run off, Jack said silently. "Could I trouble you for a minute? Adult to adult."
Nasia tried to object by freeing herself, but she politely stayed quiet.
"So. Nasia. I hear there's been a bit of disturbance outside the Orphanage. I'm hoping someone here might know a thing or two about what that could be."
"You have to be more specific."
"Wailing at night. Keeping the kids up."
Nasia groaned. If Jack didn't know any better, this was something talked about a lot that any grown-up shouldn't believe out of the children—or, in her case, pay attention to. "Everything wails at night. Those kids are just scared," she explained, impatient even. "I'm a very busy woman so-"
"Of course! It must be tough running an orphanage with a pandemic going on. Not getting enough beauty sleep would put anyone off these days."
"Well, yes. We are all trying to survive. Some of us just get up and leave, of course."
"Because this place isn't safe?"
"Because they're too wishful into thinking there's a way out of Scanderoon." Such built-in frustration Nasia had clearly been holding onto, now letting it all out for a stranger to hear. Who was going to find out, after all?
"That sounds like a plan."
"A plan? Please. You've heard about Harran, yes? The same goes for this city as well."
"You don't have much faith?"
"Faith is one thing. Ignorance is another. Some people don't think and just leave their children with strangers. Don't take a minute to realize how badly that affects the little minds."
"Heh-heh-heh," Jack cackled. "Oh, how poetic."
"I'm sorry?"
"People make last-minute decisions. No time for rational thinking."
"Well, they should have taught their children a little more about behaving. It's not easy on the rest of us."
"Easy?"
"We have to tell them they're not coming back. We have to tell them the harsh reality. That girl?" Nasia shook her head disappointedly. "Her father went looking for those noises. Rallied a few men on some rescue mission nobody asked to do. How daft. He should have stayed to work on his daughter."
She was all too caught up in her speech. Barely detecting the little twitch in Jack's tightening fist. Almost a hairline away from being punched.
"These children can be clumsy sometimes. I tell everyone, we need a firm hand on the orphans, even the newer ones. One of these days, they'll gonna get careless and get someone killed. By those monsters outside!"
"So it's alright to punish the children for the sins of their fathers?"
Their walking stopped.
Naisa didn't like how quickly the mood changed. How unreadable Jack was to her. "Miss. These children forget that every day we're in peril. I'm only reminding them that they're lucky to be alive. No one needs trouble."
"Hm-hm. Yeah. Sure," Jack flared her nostrils, closing the gap between them.
And her arm fired.
THUD!
Nasia's face was drained of color. In less than a second, she found herself being pinned to the wall. What was before her wasn't a calm, collected, and reasonable woman.
It was a predator within these halls.
Nobody, not even Crane, anticipated it; he stirred up from his perch at the sudden attack.
"What are you-?!" Nasia yelped, too far away for anyone to hear her plea.
"Frustrating, isn't it? You're in the same predicament as everyone else and you have to vent it out on children."
"What are you talking-?!"
A shove made Nasia quiet. "How often do you tell everyone that those kids are 'clumsy?' Because those bruises on them don't look like any bump."
Bruises? Did Crane hear that correctly?
Jack, on the other hand, had seen them. For every child she had found, every mark on their arms and legs peeked out from under the clothes they wore.
She saw all of them.
"W-What? They're just a slap on the wrists!"
"A slap? " She gave a resentful laugh, almost equivalent to a hyena too tired to give any shit. "Dear, I've gotten all kinds of blues and blacks. I'm sure everyone else should learn about them bruises."
The eyes flashed wide. Panic was written all over Nasia's face—not from the fear Mad Jack drove into her, but from the fear of being found out.
"We're in trying times. So best change up your act. Or else I'm going to be trouble to you," Jack warned. "Understand?"
There was no reasoning with an unleashed dog. And even if Nasia were to deny her claim again and try to spin it around in her favor, there would be no stopping the teeth from sinking.
Jack didn't want an answer. Or an excuse.
"Don't," Jack warned. "Call anyone 'a waste'."
Terror eventually swallowed Nasia whole, devoured by the she-wolf's glare. One wrong move, one single twitch, and it would be all over for her. She never had the courage to defend herself; it was why she fled to this place. Safe from crooks and zombies.
Then she was let go, Jack's arm unhooked off her throat. Like a snap of a finger, the terrifying, darkened demeanor switched back to her award-winning smile. But the tense air stayed—those haunting hazel eyes locked for any sudden movement.
"Now get."
Nasia did nothing of the sort to fight back, except make herself smaller and scram off. No doubt to seek help. Shout that a mad lady had assaulted her and be the victim.
But Jack couldn't care.
"Jack."
"I'm listening. But if you have a problem with how I do things, I'm going to ignore it." It wasn't the first time she had tugged at her leash-
"...For what it's worth, I would have done the same too."
The response was surprising to her. Still, she managed to peek through a creak of Freakazoid's door without so much of a lure. So he was the type to stand up for the silent and the weak. Well, he did save the two runners and helped her get Antizin.
Maybe, his heart wasn't as cold solid as he led her to believe.
"Hey."
Jack was about to take her leave—search for clues somewhere else. The Orphanage would surely get too rigid after that display. But Lina stood right behind her.
"You shouldn't be here, hon," Jack said with surprising sincerity.
"I...didn't want to leave you alone. With Nasia."
Jack smiled. "Don't fret about it." The mood still hung so depressing for the poor girl that the brunette swung to her tone like always. "Clever hiding places you all have."
A scoff broke out from the girl's chest. "The adults here don't know anything about this Orphanage."
"Oh? There are more places I haven't seen?"
"I'm not telling you where they are."
"Fair enough," Jack chuckled with her wide grin. "This place has so many hidey-holes the infected won't be able to find you."
Lina's smile melted down as she gave her arms a light squeeze. "Naisa won't like what you did though."
"And I don't give a…" she held back her word. Remember, children. Hold your tongue, Jackie. "Dog's butt what she thinks of me."
A soft but pleasant laugh ushered out of the young girl. "Dog's butt. Nice one."
Jack just shrugged shamelessly. "I should take my leave-"
"Don't you want to find the Weeping Man?" she asked worriedly. That hot spunkiness was just a faint aura about her. "You won the game... Faster than any seeker too..."
"I didn't find you first."
Lina's mouth opened a gap. Jack's mindset worked completely different from all the adults around her. The grown-ups she was left with by her father? They hid the truth behind colorful, flowery words. They tried to paint the grey world around them and say it was going to be fine. The paint job was obviously bad, even to Lina, one of the oldest among all the kids.
"But you still found us," Lina said again.
That was good enough.
"Ekrem saw the Weeping Man." The glasses-wearing girl leapt up and grabbed Jack by the hand. "C'mon."
Jack was led the way, being forced to sort of duck down while Lina pulled at her arm towards one room, made special for its own purpose. It was a play area but with beds, medical equipment, and all sorts of things a child needed for comfort. Besides Lina, the brunette counted four kids—all without smiles. It was easy to tell they didn't have the same light in their eyes as the other children downstairs.
Jack had seen something similar in adults since the outbreak started. The saddest thing of all was when young minds were frazzled by the chaos and horror outside the walls.
A dark-haired small boy—somewhere around the age of seven—curled up all the way at the back. What made him stand out from the rest was the right sleeve of his white and black hoodie, dangling emptily at his side.
It finally dawned on Jack that he had lost his arm. Couldn't wield the toy resting beside him—a Master Sword she had seen kids play around before the outbreak.
"Ekrem," Lina hurried over to the boy. "It's Lina."
No response out of the lad, Ekrem. He simply stared aimlessly off.
This scene was awfully familiar to Jack.
Lina was careful. Or in this case, tried to be. She struggled with what to say. "...This is Jack. She's looking for the Weeping Man."
His bed then shifted; the springs underneath squeaked from the sudden added weight. Out of the blues, Jack sat next to the small boy.
"Hello, Ekrem."
The one-armed boy didn't lift his head up. A few seconds passed. Then he slowly gazed at the grinning stranger with a shaking head. There was something Jack spotted in him—just a fraction, still too small and too far away to grasp.
She took off her shades and waited.
"I-I...I saw him…" His voice was so soft that it didn't seem like he had talked to anyone since he first came to the Orphanage. "The Weeping Man… At the back… Saw him come out from the manhole."
A pinpoint. Good.
"He...he always stands there... The girls' dormitory... He's always looking at it." The room where Jack found little Klara. That was narrowing it further down for her. "H-He...he always cries."
Finally, Jack had her intel. And the most crucial part; the location.
"...Thank you," Jack started. "I'll go look for him."
Then suddenly, the boy switched. His eyes were at their widest. Her arm was immediately latched on before she could step off the bedside. "N-No! No! D-Don't-"
Jack quietly reached for his hand and tightened her grip on it, running a thumb across his wrist as a means to comfort him.
"It's alright." She gave a glance at Lina, hoping for a vouch. "I got a secret weapon."
Lina was convinced. Whatever she had, it had to be far better than what the last group brought with them. "Ekrem. She can do it…" For a small moment, her face was downcast. "...She'll finish what my father started."
That settled Ekrem down, but only to a degree. Back into the quiet ball he stayed as.
Jack was about to get up-
"H-He's like the man from the playground..."
The sentence was off for some strange reason. Came out of left field for both Jack and Crane. They didn't recall seeing a playground within or outside the Orphanage.
It also nipped at something inside of Kyle. Something terrible.
Why did it sound so on point? Why did he feel...nervous?
Jack said to the boy the same line that was on his mind. "The man from the playground?"
Ekrem nodded, his whole body shrinking even more. Fingernails dug deeper into his knee. "He came...out of the manhole too."
That keypoint. Manhole. Manhole. Crane's head repeated that word before he could stop himself. The anxiety built up inside. Swirling, rising, slowly suffocating him.
"My sister...she screamed."
Then the flashes clobbered Crane out of nowhere. Like a bullet to the head.
Dragging his mind back to the day he crawled out of that manhole. Reminded him of the playground at the bottom of the hill.
And the family of three looked at him with horror.
Then he rose back to reality with a horrified gasp.
Crane spun around, almost losing his footing. His brain went on overdrive on the frightening questions. But his eyes told him it was all in his head; he was still at the vantage point, across the Orphanage.
He sank into the shadows before he tore off his earpiece, so that Jack couldn't hear his raspy, panicked breathing. Give him a minute to himself. Stop himself from shaking.
Push away the old memories as far back as possible...
30/7/2020 A/N: Hello everyone!
UH, so some changes. I originally had thought I would take time to work on the arc, so I had planned to write short side-quest plots while that's in the work. Chapter Ten actually came out more fluently than I expected and the first batch of side quest ideas seemed more fitting to be placed after the first half for pacing.
So for now, I'll work on the first half of the first arc, First Impressions. You can see similarities and old writing, decisions changed and such and I've thought of a very crafty plot element that no one has done for any Dying Light fanfic (to be frank, I don't think anyone has the heart to do it in any Vial ending fic... I'm not always merciful in my writing, however). Hence why my eagerness to start this off and see how this unfolds for this arc. It did lose some points but I have plans to bring them back at a later time.
Also the Orphanage has a 360 change on its head. I had always felt it shouldn't be a Catholic structure in a location like Scanderoon. Or in any way, put any sort of religious terms into the worldbuilding, more towards the characters if needed. So it went through many changes to be more neutral in structure. Even the characters have changed a lot, like previous there were Sisters in the original but having teachers sound more fitting instead. Even Lina has a more concrete character position for herself into the story arc from here on out. And there's little Ekrem. A very important character. I won't speak more on it :)
That does not always mean I can finish this within a short period. So I hope you are patient with what's to come. And if I do come to a point that is good for an intermission chapter because of other chapters being developed, I'll set them up like so. I guarantee to you all, you will enjoy these short stories because it opens a lot more on worldbuilding and character development.
Before I end this note: bringing back some good words from my original endnote. Big thanks to BigPizza and Arika Namikaze for the help. Shoutouts for Arika Namikaze's Fading Light, UranicSubseter34's Shadows of a Dying Light, Megan's The Cured series and Helenth's The Sunset of Harran. You can find these titles on AO3 and FFN so give these fanfics a good reading.
Anyhow enjoy this new chapter!
8/2/21 - Added new lines, fixed mistakes and edited parts according to new timestamp from pilot.
23/2/22 - Went over a full chapter edit with some fixes, retwists, deletes and adjustments.
8/1/24 - Final fixes and changes, I hope