boxofmisfits | A Man and his Tyrant

The container was dark. The restraints held them in place, and they waited. They did not know where they were, only that they moved. It was loud, a deep thrum that rattled through the container, through their body. It was the only sound, so meaningless that it might as well have been silence. Their eyes were open, unseeing. They would be let out, and then they would protect someone. That was all they knew. Follow someone, kill everything that threatened them. Simple. Satisfying.

Suddenly there was a lurch, and the sound changed pitch. Had the container been dropped? No. No, when they dropped, it was upright. They were falling sideways now. Something clattered against the outside of the container, and they might have heard a scream.

Then impact, tumbling, container and head battered by the blows, and they hung limp in the restraints once they stopped. Several long seconds passed as they regained their senses. Was this their deployment? Maybe. There was little noise outside now. No voices. They were supposed to protect someone. Where? Here?

After a few more seconds with no answer, they clenched their fists and broke their arms free of the restraints, tearing the band from around their neck and chest. Couldn't reach their legs. Had to open the container. They reached forward and pushed, the metal more rigid than they'd expected.

There was more weight on top of it. Rubble fell in, trying to smother them. They breathed in dust, and breathed out sharply in irritation, thrusting a gloved hand up through with a crash of sound.

They found empty air above. The surface wasn't far. They started to wrench themselves free of the final restraints, clawing away the rubble. They smelled dust, oil, heat and blood.

They had instructions to follow.

Anders wasn't very far into his journey when he heard the helicopter above. Looking up, Anders wondered if it was a med-vac, but upon second glance, it was a military model. Someone coming to help evacuate, perhaps? He certainly hoped so.

Then the vehicle sputtered, and began to descend at a rapid rate, before crashing, the sound echoing through the block. Doctor's instinct kicked in and Anders rushed towards the crash site. No doubt it would attract any undead within a few miles, and if there were any surviving crew, then they would need help.

It wasn't a very long jog to the crash, though Anders had to hop a chainlink fence to get there. The helicopter was completely totaled, but Anders still rushed forward. Upon looking inside, he got out his flashlight, "I'm a doctor. Is anybody alright in there?" No answer. Getting even closer, Anders' heart fell when he saw that the crew was most certainly dead. No way could they survive that.

He was shaken out of it when the ground literally shook. Or at least, the rubble did. Hopping off the rubble pile, Anders saw it move. Part of him wondered who could possibly be strong enough to move that. The rest of him just thought that there was indeed a survivor after all.

"Is someone under there? I'm a doctor, just stay calm and I'll get you out." Except, how was he going to do that?

A voice somewhere above. Human. 'A doctor'. One of them? From Umbrella? Maybe.

They pushed through the rubble, still entombed but sitting upright, snatching at the bands holding down their legs. One of them snapped so loudly in the confined space that they recoiled slightly at the sound, but they were free now.

The weight above them barely required any strain to shift, pushing aside the last pieces. They saw a partially-collapsed building above them, the city beyond, and a human beside the pile of rubble.

They stood slowly, pieces of the helicopter and broken sheetrock sliding off their shoulders.

No red and white symbols to focus them. No Umbrella.

Were any in the helicopter? They smelled dead, but they had to be sure. They pulled themselves fully out of the rubble, walking to the rest of the wreck and leaning down to peer inside, reach in and touch them.

Dead. Too dead to tell them anything.

Anders' eyes widened and he took a step back as a man (he was guessing it was a man) pulled up out of the rubble as if they'd been buried under cardboard. He stood there, frozen with fear, even as every instinct in him told him to run. The skin was unnaturally pale, and something about the proportions were off.

The chainlink fence behind him began to rattle and Anders whipped his head around. Zombies, no doubt having heard the crash as he predicted, were trying to get past the fence, pushing against it. The fence buckled under their combined weight.

Turning back to the survivor, Anders shouted, "Hey, you have to get out of here! They're coming!"

They stared at the bodies, unsure what to do. There would be no further orders here. There were no others with objectives to follow.

And they were missing something. Their hat. They were supposed to have a hat.

Irritating.

A shout behind them, and snarling. They stood, turning to look--The infected were here. And they were being told to leave. They stared at the doctor, trying to think. To decide.

Leaving the decision to another was easier. They turned back and away from the fence, crunching over the rubble and into the building beyond.

They were supposed to protect someone. Maybe the order was never going to get more specific. But if they didn't protect someone, they'd fail.

The doctor would do for now.

"Good idea!" Anders was still scared of this thing, if it was even a person or had ever been one, but the zombies were the bigger threat, and the creature hadn't attack him.

So, he followed the thing into the building, quickly shutting it behind them, and even propping a nearby chair under the doorknob. Hopefully that would be enough. Taking a look around, Anders saw that the building was a gun shop. Anders had taken a firearm safety course and subsequently been taught how to shoot once, so this was a stroke of luck.

But all of Anders' attention was on the thing from the helicopter. "Who... what are you?"

The ceiling was high enough to let them stand, but the hanging lightbulbs were level with their face. They stepped between them, examining the space. Dark, cracks in the walls and ceiling. The crash had damaged it, knocked many of the guns off the walls.

No. Some were sitting in piles. There was ammunition beside them. They had been taken down. They didn't know why. There was a body behind the counter.

The doctor spoke, and they turned again to face him. The man wasn't anyone allowed to know about them. They had encountered this before. New staff that stared at them. Needed their existence explained.

They were not the one to do so. They simply stared at the man.

And heard a scratching. The body. An infected. Aggressive.

It stood, and they reached out to grab it by the neck, hauling it over the counter and tossing it to the floor.

They brought a foot down on its head. Cleaner than breaking it with their hands.

Anders focuses his attention on the undead he didn't even know was in the room. Poor sod, it would have been smarter to run. Or maybe he figured he would have been safe because he was surrounded by guns and he just had to hold out. Either way, it hadn't ended well for him.

He had to look away as the thing crushed the zombie, and wrinkle his nose at the squishy gore sounds the action made. The smell of blood hit his nose, and Anders knew he was probably going to have to get used to that.

"Well, I guess we're escaping together." Anders looks around for a second, before picking up a handgun, shotgun, holsters for both weapons and some bullets, loading the latter into the back compartment of his backpack.

As he got the holsters on, Anders looked up at his companion, "I can't just call you 'thing' or 'creature' now, can I?" Except he wasn't very good at coming up with nicknames. He panned his gaze around to get some ideas, before seeing a poster for a cheesy movie from the nineties, with a big prominent X in the title.

Looking back up at the creature, Anders said, "I think I'll just call you Mr. X."

The blood and brain on one foot was making the sound of their boots uneven. Mildly annoying. They would deal with it.

They stopped to consider the guns. They knew enough about them. They could use them, when one fit their hands. But often it simply was not worth it. What was the point? There were only infected here. No military. No mercenaries with guns strong enough to hurt them. Most of the humans were dead. And the infected died easily.

They were only half-listening to the doctor. 'Escaping together' was all they needed to know. Escort him out of danger. That could be done. They could deal with that as well.

It took until the doctor came up with a name for them before they looked up. That wasn't their number.

...They would have to deal with that too.

Getting a closer look at Mr. X, Anders got a better idea of what he looked like. His skin looked like it was melted, and those eyes were so inhuman. He was still a little scared of the creature, but Anders couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"The bridge out of Raccoon City is just a few miles away. Once we get there, we should be home free. Plan B, we get out through the subway." Which was much riskier, hence why it was the backup plan.

Grabbing a magazine and shells, and loading both weapons, Anders was good to go. Opening the front door a crack, he saw a few zombies shambling around aimlessly down the street. There was a car pileup blocking the way, but right ahead was a cafe that they could cut through. He slipped out of the gun shop, pistol drawn.

Should they be following his commands? They still don't know. But he has direction. Orders. That simplifies the possibilities to something they can comprehend more easily. They now have a direction, and a task.

They duck under the door after the doctor, heavy boots thudding dully on the concrete. There is nothing about them that was built for stealth. While their presence does not aggravate the infected, it tugs their limited minds towards focusing on the human. One hisses, and begins staggering forward.

They push forward to meet it, snapping its neck with a backhand. It drops, paralyzed, but it still bites the air uselessly where it falls.

Anders raises his gun, preparing to shoot the zombie, when Mr. X charges forward before he can even line up the shot, breaking the thing's neck. He lowers his gun, staring in awe for a moment. He snaps out of it as another zombie runs at him, and this time Anders does shoot it. He only gets it in the cheek.

He quickly runs up to Mr. X, "We can cut through that cafe. The back door leads to an alley, and we can use that to get back to the main road." The car blockade might have undead passengers and drivers in them ready to reach through the windows to grab them.

Anders is also assuming that Mr. X understands him, because they did listen to him when he told them to run. He's certainly not getting the impression that they're just a dumb beast.

A shot behind them, and they turn to look. Another infected, and the rest will hear the fire.

They place a hand on the doctor's lower back and push him towards the direction he indicated, clearing enough space to grab the next infected and toss it aside. They could kill each of them, but it would be slow, methodical work, and the human does not have as much time as they do. Keeping on the move until the doctor is secure will serve them better.

Anders almost protests, but it's probably not a good idea to mouth off to the super strong giant, and so he allows himself to be pushed along. Mr. X will certainly help him save on ammo, because he only grabbed so much, for fear of being weighed down.

Once inside the cafe, Anders takes out his flashlight. The place smells of day-old coffee. There's still some food behind the glass, and Anders realizes that he didn't eat anything before he ran out.

"Just a second," Leaping over the counter, he grabs a cookie and quickly stuffs it into his mouth for a quick bit of energy. Looking up at Mr. X, he swallows the mouthful of cookie and asks, "You want anything?"

The door closes and they stand just inside of it, physically blocking the way in. The infected maybe driven by their hunger, but they were stupid and forgetful. With the doctor out of their line of sight, their memory of him would fade quickly. If any somehow remember, they will kill them. Simple.

And yet the human confuses them as well. They stare unblinking. Why would they want anything? They are still in the city. Once they leave, the objective will be complete.

"I guess that's a no." Anders hops back over the counter, grabbing an extra two bottles of water from the cafe fridge while he's at it. "If you do need food, I'm willing to share, by the way."

Creeping towards the back door, Anders peeks out, then looks back at Mr. X. "Okay, no zombies in the alley." Before he moves to step outside, he looks back at Mr. X, "But, just in case, you can go first."

Oh. Food. They had been fed and made ready to deploy only a few hours ago. Hunger was not trying to distract them yet. Later, maybe. But not now.

They waited, listening carefully. No snarling, beyond the confused infected behind them. Those did not react when they moved away from the front of the shop. The door was narrow for them, and they had to turn their shoulders to fit through, feeling their coat brush against the frame as they passed.

No noise. A few dead infected--shot, bludgeoned, smelling too stale to be alive. Humans had been here.

Anders sees it too. A sign that someone's been through here. Other survivors, perhaps? A rescue team? Hopefully not looters or assholes who are seeing this whole thing as an excuse to go wild.

Stepping out into the alley, Anders keeps his gun lowered, because even with his huge bodyguard, he's being cautious. Especially since Mr. X walks rather loudly.

Creeping down the alley, Anders peeks around the corner, towards the main street. More zombies, and a few cars stopped dead in the street, but no blockade. "Okay, let's do this."

Telling himself to be brave, he steps out and walks down the sidewalk.

They pause at the edge of the alleyway, thinking. If they were alone, there would be no hesitation. But the doctor will be vulnerable. The infected will follow him. They have to take an approach that will minimize the risk.

When the doctor moves, they move, taking the lead on a path that curves as far around the infected as the street will allow.

But escaping the notice of all of them is impossible. Two start toward the doctor, and they walk faster to intercept the first one, sending it flying with a punch. The other one mindlessly staggers closer, and they recenter themselves, turning to face it while providing the doctor cover on the sidewalk.

There is a groan up above, a shuffling, and a second later an infected falls on them from a broken window above, clawing at their face as it tries to get down and reach the doctor.

The smell is worse than anything else. They reach up, grab it, and fling it at the infected approaching them from the road. A scratch across their face seeps with blood, but the skin is already closing shut. They have more work to do.

Anders hides behind Mr. X, knowing that they'll protect him and those zombies might as well be insects to them. The noise from above makes his eyes widen, "Oh shit! Mr. X!"

He didn't even know that zombie was there, or that they would do that. He gasps when it scratches Mr. X, only for those wounds to immediately heal. "Well, looks like I won't have to worry about patching you up."

The remaining zombie is struggling to get out from under the dead one and Anders resumes moving. He looks up at Mr. X and asks, "Do I have to worry about you dying and reanimating now?"

Above wasn't safe either. More complications, and more infected standing in their way. They continued onward, now scanning the windows above as well.

Would they be infected? The question was not their concern. They did not know what the other doctors had done to the infected, nor did they care unless they stood in the way of their objective. They had been instructed to disregard the infected

Their only eventual reply was a quiet huff of breath when the doctor kept looking at them.

"I'm going to guess that's a negative," Anders' eyes dart up to the windows, looking out for more falling zombies. Some more undead shamble out of another alley up ahead, causing Anders to freeze.

"I'll just leave these guys up to you."

They absently reach up to grasp their jaw and adjust their neck, joints loosening with a quiet pop. Then they pushed forward, breaking each infected as they came.

So it continued, methodically pushing their way outward towards the city outskirts. Clearing the way when they could, covering behind the doctor when too many infected swarmed. It was slow work, but they progressed ever further toward the objective.

As they approached an overpass, the road seemed clear. The road was littered with cars and blood pooled on the ground, but nothing stirred. Infected had been here, but they had eaten and moved on.

Or at least they thought so. Their footsteps were echoing under the bridge, but they still heard something breathing up above, smell the infection. They looked up, and something shifted among the girders above. They stopped, standing between the thing and the doctor.

Anders couldn't believe it. They were almost home free. The question of what they'd do after was something they could ask themselves once they were no longer in danger.

When Mr. X stopped and looked up, so did Anders. He froze in terror. That didn't look like a zombie. He hid behind Mr. X, taking out his shotgun this time, just in case he needed backup.

The thing above looked like it had been skinned, with exposed muscles and tissues. It had claws to grab the underpass and scuttle along it. The worst part, though, was the tongue, which it ran along the girders, searching for prey.

The doctor moved behind them, rustling something, and the thing above them twitched. It was infected, and unfamiliar. Why had it not attacked yet?

They took a couple of slow steps, circling around the thing, keeping themselves between the doctor and the thing. It hissed as their boots crunched through the debris on the road, turning to face them. It knew.

Before they could do anything else, it dropped from the ceiling and skittering between the cars, circling around and launching itself at the doctor. Too fast to strike at it, they could only move to intercept the blow.

They staggered back as it struck halfway up their chest, gouging through their coat and into muscle, lodged in both. It thrashed, and they were almost pulled to one knee as it tried to retreat. They tried to grip and crush its neck, but the long tongue wrapped around their arm and squeezed. They could feel something sharp there as well.

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