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 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."

They looked up when the van slowed. Why were they stopping? Did they have to do something? They couldn't tell. The doctor was looking at them. Asking them something.

Some kind of inspection, they decided. They couldn't stand with the low ceiling, so they stayed on their knees, slowly straightening up. They'd been hunched over, and hadn't noticed.

Their head might be tilted slightly away from the noise, but they couldn't tell.

Anders approached Mr. X and looked him over. Most of his medical examination equipment hadn't exactly been high on his list of things to take with him when escaping a zombie-filled city, so he couldn't exactly look into the giant's ears to see if that was what was causing his irritation.

Fingers run over his skull to check for a concussion and brush across a piece of plastic. Anders goes over to Mr. X's other side and sees the now damaged device. "Oh dear. This looks damaged."

They remained still. Contact was not uncommon for inspections, but the scientists had always worn gloves. feeling skin touching their scalp was... different. They weren't sure why or how.

They blinked when the doctor touched the chip, and the noise flared for a moment. That confirmed it. They didn't know what the chip had ever done. These things were not told to them. All they knew was what it did now. They wanted it gone.

"I'm guessing this is the cause." He examined the device again. "We may have to remove it." Anders got out his knife, looking between it and Mr. X's head. Obviously his knife was more crude than a scalpel, and brain surgery wasn't his area of expertise. On the other hand, Mr. X had some sort of rapid healing abilities, so perhaps he would be fine if Anders dug it out.

"I'm going to try to get it out. Do you consent to that?"

Yes. That was what they wanted, and communicating the idea was so difficult, worse than it normally was.

They tilted their head further until a joint popped. Usually soothing, but not when everything felt so much.

If the doctor didn't remove it, they would try and rip it out themself.

Fortunately, Anders had packed some disinfectant, and sterilized the knife as best he could. Even if Mr. X was possibly immune to infection, best not take chances.

"Okay. Try not to squirm."

Putting a hand on the top of Mr. X's head to keep him steady, Anders dug the knife into the hole made by the device. He was hoping that he could just dig in and pop it out, but he had some trouble getting a proper angle.

Withdrawing the knife, he said, "I'm going to make a pair of small incisions." Doctor's instincts told him to speak to his patient, to keep them calm and let them know what was going on.

After cutting small slits where the flesh met the device, Anders dug back in with the tip of the knife and this time he managed to wriggle it out somewhat. He got a grip on the tiny device with his index finger and thumb, "Now I'm going to try pulling it out."

Still gripping Mr. X's head, Anders gave the device a few hard tugs, until it finally came out. He held it out in front of Mr. X. "There we go. Feel any better?"

The cuts themselves did not bother them. The metal against metal in their head was worse. They could hear the scratching, and feel a sharp sting. Electricity. They had felt that before, in the company labs. Their hands balled into fists, barely listening to the doctor through the noise.

When the chip came loose, it felt like the bullet had struck the side of their head again. They recoiled, feeling wires pull from under their skin.

There was still metal there, but now their regeneration seemed to be taking effect. It pushed the broken wire out far enough for them to grab it and pull.

They sat there for a moment, a hand carefully exploring the healing cuts on the side of their head. They felt odd. They couldn't describe how, even to themself.

But the noise had stopped. That was good enough.

Anders examined the chip, but it was too damaged to make out any writing or logos on it. He looked at the hole left in Mr. X's head. "Lucky you this thing wasn't so deep that it took part of your grey matter with it."

He pocketed the chip to look it over later, then looked around at the gore. "We might have to switch vehicles at some point."

They didn't know what that meant. They were gray. Several things tonight had taken off bits of them.

They decided not to think about it, looking down at the bodies instead. There had been something they had been trying to think about, but the noise in their head had made it too difficult. Now they couldn't remember. It hadn't been about food. While the meat would keep them going, it was almost less satisfying than the things they had eaten back in the city. And the armor was even more difficult to work around than the shiny skin on the human food.

The armor. The doctor could use the armor. They picked up one of the bodies, one that didn't have a dent in their torso. But they weren't sure how to remove the armored vest. It wasn't like their coat. There were straps, but they didn't quite understand how they could be removed without breaking them. They were trying, but it was not working. Perhaps it was another thing made for small, human fingers.

Anders watched Mr. X, wondering what he was about to do with that body, and fearing that he was going to eat it or something. Then he realized what the giant was doing. "Here, I'll get that," Anders approached Mr. X and began removing the body's armor.

Good. The doctor knew what to do. They watched for a moment, but they weren't sure they caught how the straps were unbuckled.

They turned their attention to the other bodies, reaching over to another one that had an intact helmet, grabbing them by the neck and sliding it over to the doctor. The armor hadn't done much against them--though it had slowed them down a little. And the infected could still bite.

The armor would protect the doctor most against other humans.

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