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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Anders got the hint and stayed where he was, his hand on the handle of his gun. He tensed as Mr. X got closer and closer to the barricade, palms starting to sweat. He wiped them on his jeans, before touching his gun again. If this went wrong, Mr. X could die, or Anders would be picking bullets out of his skin.

Hearing the snarl of the zombie, Anders drew his gun on instinct.

The gunfire made him flinch, before seeing his companion reel. "Mr. X!" Anders ran over to the creature.

Edited 2020-04-14 05:05 (UTC)

The humans were shouting behind them--"Hold fire"--"Whos the fuck is that?"--but they weren't processing the words. The Doctor was also shouting. And the infected was still advancing. Now they had to choose, but everything was moving too fast. It felt wrong.

The infected let out a raspy cry as it staggered forward into a charge, and they responded with a deep, rumbling growl, grabbing it by the head and smashing it into the pavement hard enough to shatter the skull. They slammed it down again. Twice.

Then they stood, grabbing the doctor with their clean hand and pulling him behind them, keeping their body between the human and the quarantine checkpoint.

"Uh," said one of the soldiers. "I've officially lost the plot here, man."

"Hey!" one of the others called to the doctor. "Are you with this thing?"

Anders let out a startled noise as Mr. X grabbed and pulled him in, worried that the shot had damaged their brain and they were about to hurt him. He felt relieved when Mr. X just shielded him, like before.

"He's protecting me, I swear! We just want to get out, I'm not infected!" Looking up at his companion, he asked, "Are you hurt?"

"What the fuck," one of the soldiers muttered, loud enough to be audible.

Blood had run from the wound, down to the heavy buckled collar of their shirt. The flesh had already begun to close, but imperfectly--that was where the chip was, always stuck through their skin like a blemish they weren't permitted to touch.

They did not respond to the doctor, facing the checkpoint, and the blinding lights it shone on them. The sharpness of it needling into their mind. They felt like lashing out at it.

A door opened. "HQ says it's with us. Some sort of elite unit," the more commanding voice said.

"Yeah, it, uh. It's got a civilian with it. They guy says it's protecting him." "It took a zombie's head off." "And you fucking shot it and it didn't care--"

"Alright," the voice tried to sound in control again. "Citizen, please approach the barricade with--" The voice paused, as if thinking better of something. "--with your escort. Unidentified company agent," the voice addressed them now, "You've been ordered to report in to HQ. They're waiting on the phone."

Anders nodded at the man, then looked up at Mr. X. "So you are with them after all."

He wanted to take a closer look at that wound, because there was something about it that didn't look right. Like there was going to be scarring there.

More importantly, if Mr. X was with these men, then who were they? The government, perhaps? A bio-engineering company, perhaps? Was Mr. X made to fight these zombies and monsters?

Not seeing any other option, Anders put his hand on Mr. X's arm and started to walk towards the barricade, hoping that they weren't about to shoot him.

They advanced toward the light, still fighting the urge to destroy it, despite the more pressing matter of new orders. Why? They didn't know. That uncertainty made them even angrier. The doctor's presence pulled them up short, keeping them leashed for now. All they did was raise their free hand, holding it up to protect their eyes.

"Through here," the voice said, and they finally stepped through the barricade and past the range of the lights, their vision swimming back to normal. Several security operatives, most holding rifles, two on spotlights. They were all looking at them, and most of them averted their eyes when they looked back.

"Phone's in there," one of them pointed toward an armored van, the back doors sitting open. "They're, uh. They're waiting for you."

The van was made to allow humans to stand inside: they had to low to enter, the suspension creaking and settling under their weight.

They picked up the phone, and tapped the mouthpiece.

Meanwhile, one of the soldiers leaned over to Anders, nervously shifting from foot to foot. "You with the company?"

Anders had to shield his eyes from the lights for a moment, until they were past the barricade. He was getting a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. If these people made Mr. X, then what if they made his bodyguard turn on him, crush his head or something? Perhaps he read too many sci-fi novels involving conspiracies, but this whole thing was beginning to reek of 'corporate evil'.

Thinking quickly, Anders nodded and spun a yarn, "Yes. I'm a doctor, but I left my ID badge at home because I had to get out before the zombies swarmed it. Just let us leave the city and we'll be on our way."

The soldier held up a hand placatingly. "I'm not judging," he said, shaking his head in frustration. "Just--What the fuck is going on?"

One of the other soldiers piped up. "Man, I don't think we wanna know."

"No, I do," the first one countered, turning to point a finger at the other. "We knew this job was going to get weird, but they didn't tell us about this shit."

"That's enough," the officer in charge cut in. "You know what we need to know."

"You didn't know about that either," the soldier pointed toward the van. "If they've got big bulletproof bastards stomping around, what the fuck are we here for?"

Inside the van, they were focused on the voice on the phone.

"Tyrant unit?" One tap for yes.

"Batch 1 through 7?" Two taps for no.

"They're probably gone, then. Unit 08?" Yes.

"Did you reach Doctor Lys?" No. That name wasn't right. The name was Anders.

"Typical," another voice muttered. "Well, he's dead then." No. The doctor was alive. What were they talking about? "And now some of the grunts have seen it too."

"T-08, you are to remain at the quarantine checkpoint for pickup," the first voice said. "Defend the point if necessary. When the extraction team arrives, clean up the witnesses. Kill all of them." All witnesses. That would include the doctor.

"T-08, acknowledge receipt of orders," the second voice said sharply. Yes. They had heard.

They were going to kill the squad at the checkpoint. They were not going to touch the doctor. Their orders were incorrect.

"Put down the phone. We'll speak to the sergeant again," the voice sighed. Yes.

They carefully exited the van, surveying the checkpoint. Now, they had to decide where to start. Or--perhaps they would wait. Maybe HQ would correct itself.

Edited 2020-05-18 18:44 (UTC)

Anders wrung his hands as he listened to the two men chatter. He didn't really expect them to know more about this than he did, since soldiers were rarely told the 'why' when it came to their missions. Still, were there more creatures like Mr. X roaming the city?

The heavy footsteps made Anders turn and relief flowed through him. He approached Mr. X.

"So, now what? We just wait for pickup?"

By now, Anders had caught on that it was better to ask the giant yes or no questions.

They shook their head no. Four at the barricades, the sergeant, two on the roof of the van-- one sweeping the streets below with a spotlight, the other a rifle in their hands. Starting there would be best.

"We've got another wave incoming," one of the spotters on the roof of the van called, and the squad on the barricades cursed indistinctly, checking over their weapons and turning their attention outwards. Good. They were distracted.

Inside the van would be safest for the doctor. They met the doctor's eyes, pointing for him to climb into the back of the van.

Once the doctor is inside, they shut the doors, and look up to the spotters on the roof. The spotlight operator glances down at them nervously. "You're gonna help, right?"

They stared for a moment, then pointed to the one with the rifle, then to the ground near the doors. "Think he wants you to guard the guy," the spotter muttered. "Probably. Best not to argue, right?"

"Fine with me." The security operative slid down from the roof, crouching a little as they landed to protect their knees.

That made it even easier to bring a fist down on their head.

The spotlight operator let out a startled cry, fumbling for their own weapon. They reached up, grabbed the soldier by the ankle, and threw into the others at the barricade, beginning their advance.

The scrabbling and thumping on the roof manages to make it to the phone receiver, which the Tyrant left hanging off the hook. "Oh, what now?" an irritated voice faintly said on the other end of the line. "Sergeant, report. What's going on?"

Anders looked from the van, to Mr. X, nodding in understanding. Best not to argue with the giant who can snap him in two, he figured. He got inside the van, but couldn't resist the urge to press his ear to the metal to try and hear what was going on.

He wished this van had a window, so he could actually see what was going on. He just wants to get out of this city, and hope that Mr. X doesn't have to die to do so.

The sergeant is next. They grab it by the throat, holding the struggling human in front of them as they advance on the others, watching to see which ones will panic and fire with their leader in the way.

Second from the left. They move to flank them along the barricades. A couple shots fly wide as the panicked one tries to hit them and not their temporary hostage, one ricocheting off the van behind them. They increase their pace, circling to place the last person on the line between them. They advance.

Trapped between them and the other soldiers, the one on the end of the line panicks in their own way, vaulting over the barricade. One of the others down the line immitates them. Out of reach, for the moment. Maybe not their problem. The infected are beginning to close in on the bridge.

They continue forward, one more spray of bullets grazing their legs before their fist impacts its head, and the gun goes silent.

A sudden pain in their arm, and they drop their hostage. A knife, embedded in their wrist. They hadn't noticed the sergeant reaching for it.

A mistake. Those always make them angry, but now, with the throbbing in their head and the confusing, wrong orders from HQ--

The sergeant has been pulled back behind the others, out of their immediate reach. They storm forward, momentum carrying them forward into a renewed hail of gunfire. They grab the closest one, and roar as they toss it away.

The body flies until it strikes the side of the van, rocking it with the impact.

A disgusted sigh on the other end of the line. "This is ridiculous."

"Maybe another pack moved in," a fainter voice suggests. "Or--you did say to wait until the extraction team arri--?"

"Yes, of course I did," the other one snaps. "Either way, I'm not going to stand by the phone like a jackass. Just hang up."

Anders jerks away from the wall with a surprised shout, falling flat on his ass. He's tempted to just run out and dash for it, trusting Mr. X to follow him, but he's probably safer in the van.

Then he feels it start to move. He pounds on the door. "Hey! Hey, I'm still in here!"

The survivors retreat to the van, dragging their sergeant with them. They follow, ripping the knife from their wrist and tossing it aside.

The fastest two run to the cab of the van, piling in and starting the engine. Too hasty--they almost abandon their comrades. One realizes, opening the door separating them from the back of the van. "They're not in yet! For fuck's sake, come on--!"

The driver glances back, noticing the doctor. "You! What the hell did you do?!" They start fishing for a weapon at their side.

The others open the back doors, screaming at the doctor to get back, fumbling as they try go pull their sergeant in with them as the van starts to roll again.

Too slow. They've catch up now, grabbing the doorframe. The van lurches, momentum knocking those in the back off-balance. One falls half-way through the open door to the cab, struggling to bring their weapon up to fire. Someone manages it, the gunshots deafening in the enclosed space.

It's not enough. They climb in. This close, there is no escaping them. They are hurt, disoriented by the deafening noise, but it is easy to crush each of them into stillness now.

They reach for the next, then stop. It's the doctor. They were about to kill them. Unintended. Unfortunate.

Another shot smacks into the side of their head and they fall to their knees on a body beneath them, white lights dancing in their vision. They grope blindly forward into the cab, trying to grab and kill the last two passengers.

Through the back of the van, the advancing pack of infected spills over the barricade line.

Anders scrambles around, trying to go for the door to the cab. He whips around, face covering his head, fearing that Mr. X is going to kill him next. He uncovers his eyes when he hears a gunshot go off and Mr. X recoils.

"Oh no!"

He looks past the doors and sees the hoard coming. Turning back around, he manages to get the door open and jumps into the cab, where he starts to struggle with the driver.

They lost track of the world around them, sinking into the haze of regeneration. Their coat had helped protect them, but every bullet had left its mark. A few had tumbled through the holes in the armored fabric, tearing directly into their skin.

Now they were slowly being forced out again, as the flesh knit together. They felt it dimly, as lines of heat drawing up and out of their chest.

They weren't sure how long it took, or remember precisely what had brought them to their knees. But they became aware of movement in front of them--two struggling human bodies. They could not focus yet, and their view through one eye was stained dark with blood that had dripped across it. But they saw enough. One was the doctor. The other was not.

They grabbed the other one by the head, interrupting it just before it could bring its pistol up to shoot the doctor.

Anders' eyes went wide when the pistol came out, knowing that at this range the driver couldn't miss. His head whipped around when a large hand grabbed the driver, feeling relived at the view of Mr. X.

"Hold on, I'm taking the wheel," Anders hopped into the driver's seat and kept going forward.

They dragged the driver back, still slow and moving with care. They could crush its head, but the helmet it wore made it difficult to keep a strong grip.

They tossed it out of the van, leaving it for the infected. They reached for the back doors, managing to grab them and pull them closed by their small handles.

Once the doors were shut, there was only the noise of the engine through the body of the van. It was like the helicopter, but softer. The sound of the helicopter had seemed to deaden every sense. This was more manageable.

Now, they could smell the bodies that surrounded them. A few pieces had slid out of the back before they'd closed the doors, but several corpses still carpeted the compartment around them. Covered them. The blood was everywhere.

They took a deep, slow breath. None of them smelled infected. Good. The infected could not regenerate as they did, but they could lie very, deceptively still. No, they smelled human. Fresh.

They were aware once again of the hunger that followed regeneration. Usually it would spur them to complete an assignment more efficiently, leave them sharpened. A few bullets should have done the same. But their head still ached and swam with uneasy emotion. It was unfamiliar. Unpleasant.

They wanted an explanation. Maybe the doctor would have one, eventually. Maybe they would be fixed. But for now, there was nothing that could fix them except for the hunger.

They settled over one of the bodies, the van's suspension shifting and creaking as it adjusted to their weight.

Anders looks over his shoulder at Mr. X, since the door to the back is still open. The giant doesn't look worse for wear, but the smell of blood fills his nostrils and makes his nose wrinkle. Even when one is a doctor, death is something that's not easy to confront.

"I don't like what was going on back there. But, if we can make it over the bridge, we can try and find someplace to stop for the night."

He looks over his shoulder again. "Don't suppose you know anything about those men back there?"

They had created a breach in quarantine. They would have to retreat further to compensate, or the doctor could be targeted again. Frustrating. They had hoped that returning the doctor to the company would be all that they needed to ensure his safety, but now it was clear that the company was standing in the way of their mission as well.

When addressed, they nodded without looking up from the bodies. They were too hungry to focus.

The clothes were an annoyance. Armored like their coat, and just as many straps to hold the pieces in place.

The arms would be easier. Some of them were bare. They grasped one by the bicep, pinning the body to the floor with their knee. They pulled, the shoulder joint resisting for a moment before it failed completely with a cracking and tearing sound.

Eyes went to the road again. "You searching for their wallets?" He was making a joke, but that honestly wasn't a bad idea.

At the sound of tearing flesh, he looked over his shoulder again, eyes going wide. "Holy shit, what are you doing?"

Edited 2020-11-10 04:11 (UTC)

A question they obviously could not answer. Not with words. Actions were always simpler.

They lifted the arm toward their mouth.

Anders quickly looked away with a sound of disgust. Great, his giant friend ate people, or was just hungry enough that eating human corpses seemed like a good idea. What had he gotten himself into?

"Next time remind me to pack extra snacks or just find a Burger King."

Eyes back on the road, someone stumbled out into the middle of the road and Anders braked. Upon second glance, it was a zombie and not a living person. He drove around it anyway.

They bit down, ripping off a strip of flesh. The blood had yet to set in the meat, staining their face. But they were already covered in the stuff, and they were too hungry to feel annoyed by it now, especially now that they could taste it.

But it was not a frenzy, like the infected. They ate methodically. The rubbery texture of raw meat was not pleasant, but it would be sufficient.

They braced as the van braked, but when they glanced up, there was no sufficient threat to deserve their attention. They continued to eat. The bodies of the dead served no further purpose, after all.

Their armor, however, might. Once they were satiated enough to stop, they looked at the remains. The equipment could help the doctor. But--when they tried to think of how, the ringing in their head became harder to ignore.

They brought their hand to where they felt it, gloved fingers catching on plastic and wire. The chip. They hadn't been able to touch it before. Not allowed. But it was broken now, they could feel how it was bent and snapped. It was filling their head with nothing but noise. They wanted it out.

But the van rumbled too much for their bloodslicked fingers to grasp and pull at something so small. They simply knelt in the middle of the van, eyes not focusing on anything.

Anders heard the giant eating and tried to ignore it, which was harder than it sounded. Especially when he knew full well what Mr. X was eating. That Mr. X was eating the dead, rather than just going for the still alive Anders, probably said something. Either he was loyal to Anders, or he just didn't like the idea of eating someone alive.

When the noises came to a halt, he looked over his shoulder, frowning at Mr. X. "Are you alright?"

Even though they weren't off the bridge yet, Anders stopped the van and put it in park. Slipping out of the driver's seat, he went to the back, careful not to step on any gore. "Here, let me take a look at you."

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