boxofmisfits | A Man and his Tyrant

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A Man and his Tyrant

A week after Anders took this job in Raccoon City, things went to hell. It had seemed like such a nice offer, him fresh out of medical school, ready to save lives, pay off that college tuition, and Raccoon City seemed like a nice place to start his career.

Then a man came in who claimed he'd been attacked by someone who bit him. Then more cases like that, of people attacking each other. Patients died overnight. Then the bodies in the morgue rose up and attacked the doctors. Then patients rose up before they could be taken to the morgue. Finally, the whole city broke out in pandemonium. The dead rising, swarming the city, people rushing to get out.

As he packed a small backpack full of food, and other supplies, Anders was suddenly very grateful that his apartment hadn't allowed pets, and he'd left Ser Pounce-a-lot with Delilah Howe in the next state over.

Once he was out of the apartment, he checked to make sure the coast was clear before heading out into the street. The bridge out of the city was a long ways away, especially on foot, and he could only hope that luck would be on his side as he walked at a brisk pace.

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The shotgun roared again and they flinched, the quiet ringing in their ears from the first shot now overwhelming. The infected convulsed one more time, then went limp, hanging from them.

They slowly reached up to grab the claws and pull them out, movements unsteady. Injuries like these hurt, but not as badly as their ears. The true problem was the damage: the muscles were torn, and attempting to move them only flared the inch-wide gouges open even further.

And they were covered in bits of infected blood and brain. They did not like this.

Anders put away his shotgun once the monsters was dead, and immediately looked over Mr. X's injuries. This was more than just a little scratch. If he were human, he would be super dead at the moment.

"It's okay, we can fix this. Maybe there's some place we can get you washed up."

The wounds were bleeding, darker red than human, but against gray skin it looked almost the same. They couldn't tell yet if it had only torn the muscle, or if it had reached between their ribs and cut a lung as well. They didn't think so.

They pulled the last claw out and let the corpse drop, their arms falling limp at their sides, dizzy and slowly trying to think. No more immediate threats made that difficult. Violence focused them. Now their heart was beating faster, but there was nothing to do. They simply stood.

The tongue unwound from their arm and slithered to the ground with a wet smack.

Edited 2020-03-29 20:18 (UTC)

Anders watched the tongue, wincing a little at the sound it made. Looking back up at Mr. X, he took note of the injuries. Mr. X didn't appear to be bothered by them, as he wasn't doubled over in pain or giving any other signs of distress. Hopefully he could heal from these just as he could with the scratch.

"Come on, maybe we can find some place with a bathroom where you can wash up. I'm not sure I have enough surgical thread for those wounds, through."

Taking his pistol back out, Anders resumed walking, all while keeping his eye open for more monsters and zombies.

They walked after the doctor, keeping to the human's slower pace. They needed to--their head was swimming. This had happened sometimes before, when they'd been injured or taken to the laboratory. They would not stop, not until they became too unsteady to walk, but the world did not feel stable around them.

Protecting the doctor was proving to be more complicated than they'd anticipated. In some ways, more frustrating. This would not have happened if their instructions had left them on their own. But they did... appreciate the consideration about washing off the blood.

Anders checked for zombies, before waving Mr. X along and creeping out into the open air again. Now that he knew there was more than just zombies roaming about, his paranoia had increased. There was also the question of where that monster had come from, and did it have anything to do with Mr. X.

Spotting a fire hydrant, Anders walked over to it at a brisk pace. "If we can get this open, you can rinse yourself off. Don't suppose you've got a wrench handy?"

They trailed behind, keeping their eyes forward to fend off the dizziness. The wounds would close, but they would be unsteady for longer. They could feel the healing flesh trying to boil into new shapes, new tendrils of muscle twitching before falling into line.

They started paying attention again when the doctor sped up, toward... they didn't know what it was. Something metal, and it could be opened. That was all they knew.

They stared at it for a moment. It looked solid. They weren't even sure where it opened up. The human couldn't do it. Obviously. He wanted them to do it, but they didn't know how. Their arms were still weak. They knelt down to touch it--made from something rigid. Brittle.

So they took a deep, slow breath to steady themselves, stood up, and raised a foot to kick it. The breath audibly left their lungs in a growl as they struck, the metal snapped, and... water. Everywhere.

Anders jumped back at the sudden spray of water, so that his backpack wouldn't get soaked. "Well, that's one jog to the hardware store saved."

Figuring that he might as well rinse off too, Anders stood under the spray just a little, not taking off the backpack. He held out his arms, rubbing them free of dirt and grime, then cupped water in his hands to wipe off his face.

The pressure was so immense, the spray falling back down made it seem like it had started to rain. They took a step back, confused, watching the water gush from the broken pipe. They hadn't known it could do that.

But it was washing away the blood and infected brain, which had been the intent. They slowly raised their arms from their sides to let the water rain down on them, their skin still visibly knitting itself back together through the holes in their coat. Just as slowly, they brought their gloved hands to their face, partly in imitation of the doctor.

Now they were clean, and very, very wet.

"There we go," Anders stepped away from the water. He watched with some relief as Mr. X's wounds began to heal. "We can fix that coat. Or find a store for very tall people with wide shoulders."

He looked around, seeing some zombies shuffling out. "After we escape." Pointing down the street, Anders made sure to put some distance between himself and the windows of a nearby building.

That refocused them: Their objective remained incomplete. They followed the doctor's direction, setting off. Their head was slowly clearing, and with it, hunger came. Injuries always caused this, but they would not stop to attend to it. There was no food here, not unless they took from the infected.

And they did not want to. Biting into one of them would not hurt them, but the infected were a far cry from the dense bricks of food they received from Umbrella. They doubted the infected would be as satisfying. But if the hunger grew more intense, they might be tempted.

Also, there was water trapped in their boots. They had yet to form an opinion on that, but they had the distinct impression it might grow to annoy them.

Anders continued on down the street, making sure to avoid any zombies, as well as the windows, before he started to feel a bit hungry. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to just take a five minute break for a quick snack, seeing as the bridge was still about a half-hour away on foot.

Ducking into a nearby gas station, there was just a single zombie behind the counter, one which Anders shot in the cheek.

Despite the noise they made as they walked, the infected evidently did not perceive the heavy sound of their footsteps as something of interest. They almost regretted that now. The mutant infected had taken more from them than the gunshots they had felt during testing: their chest had healed, the deep burn and pressure of internal bleeding had subsided. The blood on their skin had been washed away. The dizziness had cleared, replaced now with bone-deep hunger.

And there was nothing here for them. There had been infected here, and their victims, but there were no corpses left. The only technically edible thing here was the doctor, and their mind recoiled from that idea as soon as it touched them.

They didn't understand why the doctor was stopping, but they fit through the door just in time for the scent of infected blood to spray from a new wound. And there were other smells, some almost familiar. This place had food.

But their compulsion to complete their task was too strong--they paced the aisles first, checking for infected, for humans, for anything that might be a threat. Nothing.

Once the urge was satisfied, their patience was thoroughly exhausted. The infected had eaten almost everything here that smelled like flesh, but it had ignored almost everything else. They snatched something up, not bothering to remove the colorful skin on it before they bit down.

They didn't know what it tasted like, but it was more intense than they had expected, despite the sterile, uninteresting skin.

"I must say, you've been a lifesaver, literally, and you've saved me having to use up a lot of ammo."

Anders went over to the chips isle and tore open a bag of fritos, digging in by the handful. The sound of packages crinkling behind him made him turn around, eyebrows raising. So Mr. X did eat. Didn't even bother to take off the wrapper.

"Wow, you were hungry."

While he was at it, he helped himself to a candy bar, then grabbed a few more to stick in his bag. He scarfed down the entire bag of chips before returning to Mr. X, making his way back to the entrance, looking out the clear glass for zombies or monsters.

They glanced at the doctor, but kept eating. Yes. They were hungry. They supposed the human wouldn't know why--in their experience, humans never seemed to heal.

By the next one, they learned. Their gloved hands weren't dextrous enough to rip the skin off, so they tore it free with their teeth first. They swallowed the contents with barely a moment's pause, still wandering the aisles, trying to find something dense enough to feel like food they recognized. There were labels on all of these, words they could read--but not make any sense of. They tried things at random, subjecting themselves to a riot of clashing tastes before they finally settled on something that at had a hint of familiarity on their tongue. It was meat, but long-dead dry and covered in a flavor that had evidently hidden it from the infected.

The doctor seemed ready to leave. They put more bags of the stuff in their coat, returning to the human's side. Hopefully they had eaten enough.

"If we make it out alive, I'm taking you to an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Anders carefully poked his head out, doing a quick sweep with his gun. There were some zombies across the street, shambling along, but no monsters. Waving Mr. X along, Anders continued down main street.

"It shouldn't be much farther."

Edited 2020-04-04 22:31 (UTC)

More cryptic phrases they half-understood. Still, the idea of more food and the completion of their objective was something they enjoyed.

They ducked their head yet again to fit through the door, taking the doctor's gesture as permission to range on ahead and eliminate the threats. More skulls cracked, spines snapped, and snarling cut short. Each time they destroyed one, they were already turning to the next.

Anders paused, ducking behind a bus stop. Which wouldn't really hide Mr. X, admittedly. He could see the bridge, but there were black vans forming a blockade. Taking out his binoculars, he look a better look. Suspicion flared through Anders.

"Okay, new plan. There should be a subway entrance nearby, we can escape through the tunnels. If we're lucky, we may even be able to get one of the trains up and running."

They stopped, making no attempt to conceal themselves. Up ahead was the bridge and... They could only just make them out, but the silhouettes of the vehicles there were very familiar to them. There. That looked like their objective.

Which the doctor wanted to move away from. They didn't understand. They remained there, staring at the bridge, unmoving. Should they force the doctor in that direction?

A loud bang of gunfire echoed through the empty city. Anders put his binoculars back up to his eyes to watch the barricade. A few zombies had wandered over, one of which lay in the road with its head shot off, and another meeting the same fate, the sound echoing again.

The first thought to mind was that it was a quarantine barricade, and that they wouldn't care that he wasn't infected. Worse, that they would see Mr. X and do something to him.

Looking up at Mr. X, Anders asked, "You're not with them are you?"

They heard the gunfire. That meant more risk, but not an unexpected one. People from the company were often armed, especially when they had to get close to the tyrants. They didn't understand why they bothered: The only time they had seen another lash out, the target was dead before they had the chance to fire. And the thought that the doctor might be in danger from company personnel simply did not occur to them.

But now were being asked a question that seemed to come from nowhere. They didn't answer. That wasn't what they did. Others talked. Answered questions. They did not do this. Humans made it seem simple, but they did not understand how to form thoughts into sound.

Gestures were barely an better, but they could sometimes use them. They pointed towards the barricade in the distance, trying to get the doctor to understand.

"I'll take that as a maybe." Looking up at Mr. X, he adds, "Do you know what a quarantine is? That means they're probably not going to let either of us out, and might just shoot us on sight. If you are with them, then that means they're probably going to separate us. Or kill me and then take you."

Looking at the barricade, Anders looks up, "Okay, tell you what, we'll get a little closer, but I'm going to hide behind you, in case they get trigger happy. Seeing as between the two of us, you can likely shrug off a bullet wound."

They did understand quarantine, or at least the two things it had meant for them. When they were put into quarantine, it meant sterilization, a gas that burned their lungs and eyes, and then confinement. When they were ordered to enforce quarantine, they killed everything.

If it was a company quarantine, that would be their role now. But they had received no such order. They were to protect the doctor. Could they break through the quarantine barricade? Possibly. It was the shortest route, and they knew there were no infected beyond that point. But they also knew the guns the soldiers would be carrying. Those bullets stung, bit into them, and could force them to a halt. If they failed to kill the soldiers fast enough, it would leave the doctor vulnerable.

But if this was a quarantine, the company would have locked down everything. All other exits would also be guarded.

They started forward, trying to plan how they would kill the soldiers.

Anders kept behind Mr. X, not even daring to poke his head out. Those guys might have had snipers, and he would rather be safe behind the giant who had shrugged off being clawed up by that monster.

"This is far enough," He hissed at Mr. X. He didn't hear any gunfire, but just to be sure, he took an apple he'd packed out of his bag and gently rolled it across the street.

They watched the object roll, a light from the bridge tracking its movement. No gunfire, but they were alert. A risk. One they had a plan to mitigate. They put a hand on the doctor's chest and pushed him back, just to make sure he would stay. They then stepped out into the street, advancing towards the barricade, stepping over bodies littering the pavement. Some of them smelled infected, others did not.

"Halt!" A voice called out.

They stopped.

"Quarantine checkpoint, all civilians m--" A light shone directly at their face, their pupils closing to pinpricks.

"What the fuck?" Now the voices sounded much less sure of what to do. "What the fuck is that?" They didn't have clearance. Another reason to kill them, but they would be careful. "Is that a zombie?"

"Does it fucking look like one? Jesus Christ, dude, why'd you think that was a civilian, it's eight feet tall." "Don't you fucking--"

"That's enough," a more authoritative voice said, though they could hear how shaken it was as well. "We're calling this in. You!" The guns clacked quietly again as they squared up. "Stay where you are!"

They stayed.

"...Alright. If it moves, shoot it." The voice retreated, and they heard a door close. It was inside one of the vans now, where they couldn't hear it, leaving the others alone and jittery. "If he starts driving away--" "Fuck off with that shit and keep an eye on it." "I'm just saying, fuck him." "Fuck you too, man."

They heard an infected wheeze across the street. They couldn't tell if it had noticed the doctor, or where the human might be now. With no real objective holding them in place, they turned, and advanced on the infected. Their only task was to protect the doctor.

"Don't fucking m--" They felt an impact smack off the side of their head, their vision going dark for a moment. They stumbled and kept walking, hands balling into fists.

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