Chapter Text
It felt like her whole world came crashing down. Feeling her heartbeat in her ears, feeling like she was in a movie almost. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to deny what he had just said to her. Her eyes were glassy, her face hot, staring at Miles like he had grown a second head.
She started backing away, shaking her head.
“ No ,” she whispered.
“Violet, I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to listen. I don’t have much time left here,” he said with a cough, walking towards her.
“No! You’re lying! You’re a liar!” She retaliated.
“Violet! Violet, please,” he said as he grabbed her by the shoulders.
“You lied to me,” she whimpered out.
“I know I did. But I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he replied, hugging her. “I’m so sorry.”
She tried to retaliate, hitting her fists into him, until she gave up. She cried onto his shoulder, gripping his coat like a lifeline.
And then he slowly lowered himself to the ground, his body growing limp as he groaned and wheezed.
She kneeled down, carefully holding him up by his torso.
“Please don’t leave me,” she said as she cried.
His eyes fluttered, and he coughed up more blood.
“I’m not going anywhere, kid. I’ll be there, I just won’t be in your sights for very long,” he said, taking a shaky breath. “Hey, hey, look at me.”
Violet cried, tears dropping down and landing on Miles’s jacket as she did.
He looked pale, and tired. So, so tired.
“You know something?” He asked.
“What?”
“You look…just like your dad,” he replied, his voice growing distant now. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he lay limp in her arms.
“What? Wait, Miles! Miles? What does that mean? Miles!”
She continued to shake him, but it was no use. His eyes stared up blankly, blood trickling out of his mouth.
“Please, don’t leave me. Please…”
She buried her head in his chest, before looking up.
“Oh my god.”
She set his body on the ground, blood now pooling around him. She covered her mouth with her hand, crying to no one in particular. She doubled over, screaming into the ground, sobbing until it felt like she couldn't breathe.
“Little pig.”
Chills ran up her back, eyes wide as she turned, facing the large man once more.
He grabbed her, picking her up by the neck, squeezing around her throat.
“Please…” She wheezed, clawing at his arm.
He just stared, brow furrowed, face set in that horrific grin. Her eyes fluttered, and she heard that familiar buzzing.
“New…host…”
“So this is how I die,” she thought to herself as she struggled to breathe. “Strangled to death by a man with no face.”
She kicked her legs, but even then that was no use against him. Watching her die slowly at his hand. Her vision swam in and out, blacking out now. She stopped kicking, stopped clawing, watching everything go dark around her. She gasped for air, dropping down suddenly. Face planting with the cement.
Everything went black.
Her vision swam as she opened her eyes, looking around.
It was dark all around her, and she heard a familiar voice.
“Do you feel any different?” Miles’s voice asked her.
She looked up, spotting the man. She then looked around at the pitch black darkness around her, and then back at him.
“I just watched you die,” she said shakily. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“My consciousness lives in the Walrider,” he merely replied. “You just became the next host.”
“I was supposed to be the savior,” she whispered.
“Hey, I already told you don’t believe any of that bullshit Father Martin told you.”
He walked up to her.
“So what does that mean for me? Being a host?” She asked.
“It means that creature lives with you now; it’s a part of you,” he merely replied.
“A part of me?”
“Yes.”
“So what, I’m stuck with it forever?”
“No, not unless you die, of course. Or it dies.”
She backed away from him, glaring at him.
“What is it that you want from me? I tried to help you, and you stabbed me in the back.”
“I did need your help. But I…I had a different plan, after we stopped talking in the emails.”
“What kind of plan?”
“To expose Murkoff, using you, and the other people in the asylum.”
“Using me?” She retorted. “But you died! Was that your big plan?”
He pulled a small smile from that.
“I know it sounds bad, but it wasn’t my…intention, per say.”
He continued.
“I gave the Walrider one last objective before I moved on from here, before I died. To take away the damage inflicted on the patients, on the people here. Only a few select people can make it out, and I think you can at least help those people.”
“Like who?”
“You know the big guy? Walker? Trager? The twins you saw? Even Gluskin?” He asked.
“He tried to kill me!”
Miles smiled. Like he knew something she didn’t.
"The Walrider can give, but it can also take away. They're made up of little machines, so they can make neurosurgery look easy, or even plastic surgery, for that matter. You'll thank me later," he said in response.
"What the hell does that mean?" She asked, brow screwed in confusion.
He continued on, ignoring her question.
“I left a camcorder in one of the computer rooms there. Find it, take it with you, and get in contact with anyone you can, to expose Murkoff.”
Violet blinked a few times.
She just…couldn't believe it. Nothing in this place made sense. It was nothing but bloodshed and murder. Plain and simple. But she thought, if all of this was orchestrated, and then covered up, what was this company that Miles spoke of? What were they willing to do to keep quiet about this?
“You said not to trust anyone,” Violet replied.
“True. But there’s a few people who can help. Waylon Park, Simon Peacock, and even Paul Marion. He’s…kinda iffy, but I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“What about the other people?”
“They'll be fine, but they need help. Which I'm sure you can do.”
“Those people tried to kill me.”
“The twins didn’t. They seem to like you.”
That was true. But if what Miles said was true, did that mean they wouldn’t try to kill her?
She needed to know, at least.
She nodded.
“What do I need to do?”
“Take the camcorder. Get as many people out as you can. Gluskin, Walker, Trager, the twins–anyone. And then get the hell out of here.”
Miles put a hand on her shoulder.
“Wake up.”
Wake up
Wake up
Scenes of pure agony, screaming, yelling played out in her head. Skin being ripped off, faces becoming bruised and flesh tearing away. Yelling, screaming, choking on tubes being put into someone’s mouth.
WAKE UP
Screaming, hoarse and guttural. Scenes of men in military grade uniforms being dragged and ripped apart by an unseen force; the Walrider.
WAKE UP
~
Chris L. Walker “The Soldier”
That’s what they called him, or ‘Strongfat’. Which he hated.
No here he was, trying to contain the Walrider. Prevent it from possessing a new host.
The girl.
It was odd to see a woman in the asylum, much less see one that looked so young. She was strange, but she had managed to get past him so many times. Not this time, though.
In his own lucidity he knew she was a potential host, far so much more susceptible to the Walrider's influence. Like a moth to a flame, and he was about to snuff it out.
She begged and begged, kicking, clawing at his arm, leaving behind scratches and even drew blood. She looked at him with those green eyes, now blood covering the sclera as the blood vessels popped. She wheezed, sobbing pathetically as he strangled her. Watching her slowly lose that light in her eyes as she stopped retaliating.
“Chris,” he heard behind him.
He blacked out, dropping the girl on the cement floor in the process.
“Must contain it,” he thought before he completely fell unconscious.
It felt like a dream, waking up, feeling every bone in his body hurt.
He took a shaky breath through his mouth, feeling drool slip out. He sat up on his hands, pulling the mouth restraints off from around his mouth. He groaned, hearing the skin peel slightly and the clank from the metal as he threw them off to the side.
He then coughed, looking around him.
Miles’ dead body. The girl laying on the ground, fidgeting in her sleep.
His mind didn’t feel clouded, he could breathe clearly.
He could breathe clearly.
He shakily touched a hand to his face, feeling his cheeks full, his nose and lips intact.
“What the hell,” he whispered to himself.
“Holy shit!” He heard behind him.
It was Trager, and three of the other patients.
Gluskin, the twins.
He looked up at them with wide eyes, seeing their unscarred and perfect complexions.
“You do have a face, after all,” Trager said with a scoff.
One of the twins made his way over to the girl, turning her over before he suddenly backed away. Walker tried sitting up, feeling his muscles and just how sore they were.
“What’s wrong with her?” Gluskin asked, walking over to peer down at the girl. “Good lord.”
Walker walked over to her, kneeling down to see.
He pulled her shoulder, turning her over to look.
Her eyes were wide open, clouded over as she just stared. Her fingers would fidget, as well as her legs. That buzzing sound was apparent, he knew that sound. He set his brow as he looked down at the girl and her features.
Bloody, dirty, bruises forming around her neck. Her eyes were red with blood. And down her face was a bloody tear. Her eyes blinked, and a black shroud went over her. He backed away, as well as the others.
They watched as it seemed she was possessed, her face shrouded over in darkness as her body contorted up, standing on her feet.
“You don’t think–”
“It is.”
Both the twins murmured.
“She’s the host,” Gluskin added.
She just stood there, a black cloud and tendrils going over her as she just stood. Blank, unmoving, no apparent features except for the whites of her eyes. Her head turned, looking at them.
Walker stood his ground, holding his fists tight as he was ready. And then the cloud dissipated, the girl dropping to the floor once more.
Both the twins seemed the most concerned, going over to set her up on her back.
“Geez, what good role models you two are,” Trager muttered.
“Like you can say anything better.”
“You cut off her finger.”
“What? No I didn’t! She’s got all ten, right there!” He retorted.
“Enough!” Walker shouted.
The silence was deafening.
He sighed, walking over and kneeling over the girl again. And then he glanced at the twins, only turning his head away from their naked appearance.
“Go find some clothes; take ‘em off the bodies in here,” Walker muttered. “All three of you.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Trager questioned.
“You’re indecent, that’s why,” he replied firmly. “And as for you two, it’s indecent for a kid.”
Both the twins were quiet, but did as they were told.
Which left Walker and Gluskin.
Walker looked over the girl, watching her eyes move under her lids. Her hands fidgeted, and her foot twitched. And low and behold, she did have all ten fingers.
Just like he had his face back. Somehow.
“So what do we do?” Gluskin asked, his voice barely audibly as he stepped to look down at her too.
“We need to leave,” Walker stated. “Get as far away from here as fast as possible.”
“What about the girl?”
“Take her with us. She has to have a home, at least. Her parents might be looking for her,” he said, and he started feeling for anything in her pockets.
A wallet–he pulled it out, looking at the driver’s license.
Violet Gonzalez
“She’s only fourteen,” Walker muttered, looking down at it.
There was an address, but it was closer to the asylum than he thought.
“But why did she even come here?” He asked himself.
The photo was strange. She was blonde in the picture, but she was a brunette lying in front of him.
“Piece of shitty ass clothes,” he heard Trager’s voice behind them.
All three were dressed, bloody clothes, but still dressed.
“How is she?” One of the twins asked.
Walker shook his head, slipping her wallet back in her back pocket.
“I don’t know. There’s no telling when she’ll wake up,” he replied, still kneeled over her.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“She was so…kind.”
“Kind? You call that kind? She fucking punched me in the face!” Trager complained.
“You also cut off her finger.”
“Did you not?”
“Walker?” Gluskin’s voice cut through the argument. “She’s waking up.”
He looked down at her, seeing her flinch and sigh as she writhed, turning her head as her eyes fluttered.
The others gathered around, watching.
And waiting.