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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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.

Anders looked at the other body, wondering what Mr. X wanted him to do with this one, since he already had mostly intact armor. Of course, the helmet. Might as well. He unbuckled the helmet and slid it off the dead man, finding it rather morbid to be wearing dead men's body armor.

He put the chest armor on, but left the helmet off for now.

Just as they hoped. There were more guns here too--some of the bodies had pistols, a few had rifles, and there were more on a rack beside boxes of supplies, unused. They were small, but if they could snap off the trigger guard without damaging the gun, maybe they could use one. They didn't think it was likely, though. Usually when they broke part of a gun, the rest of it stopped working. It was annoying.

The blood was starting to grow sticky on their skin. They tried to wipe it off with a hand, even though they knew it wasn't going to work.

Anders looked Mr. X up and down, and wrinkled his nose at the coppery smell of drying blood. "We should probably find someplace to wash up. I would suggest we find a gym, the showers might be a tight squeeze. Guess we could always rinse off if we come across a lake or busted fire hydrant."

Meanwhile, Anders examined the weapons. He wasn't used to shooting things and figured he had best stick to the smaller firearms that would have less recoil.

Yes. Blood happened to them, but once they were returned to company property, they preferred being clean. They managed half a nod, lowering their head. Communicating was difficult. It often felt unpleasant. They had been taught hand signals, but they were expected to obey them, not to use them. Usually, this was fine.

They felt the tension in their shoulders and neck again. While the doctor looked through the weapons, they adjusted their neck, rolled their shoulders back as far as they could while kneeling on the floor, joints popping.

Their shirt stuck to them in places where it shouldn't. More blood. And the claw holes on their chest let in the air onto their skin.

They tried to ignore it.

Anders brushes past Mr. X and takes a peek out the door. There's no zombies nearby and it looks like they haven't broken through the barricade. Reinforcements might be on the way, and Anders doesn't want to be in the city when it happens. He goes back to the driver's seat and resumes driving.

"Can you hold on for just a bit longer? I'll keep an eye out for a place for you to wash up."

They tense slightly as the doctor opens the door, readying to deploy or pull the human back. But nothing happens. Good. The doctor will be safe for now, as he's supposed to be.

But they're not done driving yet. And now the doctor isn't looking at them. They reach foreward to tap a yes on the dividing wall of the cab, next to the doctor's head. Humans in the company usually understood that.

Usually. Sometimes they became confused. And others seemed startled to realize that they had responded at all. Those ones tried to ignore it.

Anders gets the message. "Alright."

He drives over the bridge, and is halfway across when droplets start to appear on his windshield and thunder sounds over head. Anders stops the van again. "Would you be alright with washing up in the rain? I know it's not exactly a hot shower, but you could get the blood off if you stand outside long enough."

More tension. Why are they stopping again, and so soon? They didn't see anything of importance. They are still close to infected.

It takes a moment for them to process the question. Being asked is confusing. Usually they are told, and they respond accordingly. When asked what they want, they don't know how to respond.

Eventually they decide that the doctor is saying they should do it, so they will. They carefully open the back doors, the suspension creaking and rising up off its springs as they exit.

The rain is coming down fast now, and when they raise their hands to methodically scrub their face and scalp, they can feel the blood loosening from their skin almost immediately.

They can also feel it running down their neck and trying to get under the belts around their neck, down to where bullets trapped in their coat are clinking against each other. They want to get rid of those, but their gloves and outside of their coat are still covered in blood. Washing that is more important now.

After this, they will have to get back into the van, and kneel down among the bodies again. They wonder if they could lift the van so that the rain could come in and clean it too.

It probably wouldn't work. Cars tend to break when they turn them over. But at least they can pull the bodies out and throw them over the edge of the bridge.

They reach for the closest two, letting them drag on the ground rather than getting their coat bloody again.

Anders gets out to watch Mr. X dump the bodies, looking out at the city. He can see fires in the distance, but there seem to be no walking undead in this area, or more of those monsters with the long tongues.

Off on the other side, he can see something come out of the sidewalk, likely from the metro system. His eyes widen. Whatever it is, it's big and it's on fire. Relief washes through him as it falls into the water.

"I don't suppose that was an older cousin of your's?" He's mostly being snarky, leaning on the rail.

He reels back when, a few minutes later, something leaps out of the water onto a bridge. It's bigger now, and certainly not humanlike any longer. "What the?"

The bodies are light, delicate, and their armor makes them sink with a satisfying splash. The doctor says something, but they don't understand. The human doesn't sound concerned, so they continue with their work.

But they stop in their tracks as the water down the river seems to explode, something rocketing out and onto a bridge.

They do not know this thing. It looks completely unfamiliar. But when other Tyrants became unstable, they changed too. They were stronger. More aggressive. And as it moved, it was clear it was hunting something.

Whatever it was, its orders conflicted with theirs. They dropped the last bodies on the pavement, picking up the doctor instead and returning them to the van, walking faster. No wasting time. Once the other bioweapon had killed its target, it would start searching for more. That was a threat. One they could only face if they also began to change.

And they did not want that.

It's like watching a car crash, somehow he can't look away from that thing, and he wishes he had binoculars. He makes a small noise of protest when Mr. X grabs him, but it probably is for the best that they get out of here before that thing sees them.

He hops back into the driver's seat and resumes driving. "Something is going on here, and somehow I doubt these zombies are the result of a rotten cheeseburger or a new strain of mad cow."

They set the human down and returned to the back of the van. It still smelled strongly of blood, but none of it was the doctor's. They would keep it that way. That meant leaving the city.

And then... something. They weren't sure when this mission would end. The company would recall them. But the company had been wrong.

Maybe they would be right again, sometime. Until then, this was what they would do. And they would do what the doctor told them to do. The doctor knew more than they did.

But not about the infected.

Maybe they would ignore the doctor sometimes, too. They weren't sure.

A Man and his Tyrant

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