transfering to my deviantart (feel free to read it :D)

Anna Stair sighed, sitting inside her cramped drop pod, hanging suspended above the planet below. “Hey, Sevens, when we dropping?” she asked over her mic

“10 minutes, Anna” Sevens replied “prep your pod for a class 3 drop.” She added, killing the line. Anna sighed again, looking down at the planet below. “Frayalva…” she mumbled “Number-one hell hole this side of our universe” she clicked her helmet into place, and locked her gear into place behind her. The Captain’s voice echoed over her helmet’s speakers.

“Alright, soldiers. You are dropping in five minutes. No exceptions.” He paused “your objective is to investigate the disappearance of Dr. Neel from his camp at the northern temple ruins.” He added, as if a after thought “good luck marines” one of the other marines in another pod began a chant over the comms, others of her squad joining in. they believed the silly verse to be a good luck omen for a safe drop. A bunch of fools, Anna thought.

The countdown timer on her Heads up display (HUD) began as a few others counted down the seconds. The pods lurched violently, and began their rough ride into the atmosphere, once out of the burn zone the blast shields on Anna’s pod window opened, revealing the giant forest below. Somebody buzzed over the comms. but static over shadowed the voice. Anna’s pod shuddered violently, going off course, red lights flashed all over, her HUD showed her pod was going way off the drop target, she noticed other pods were behaving oddly. 15 seconds to touch down. She took a deep breath. 10 seconds to touch down. And she prayed. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.


The pod plummeted into a fast flowing river, being swept away. Anna moving quickly hit the emergency release switches, the pod’s swinging door blasted off its hinges. She leaped off the fast-sinking pod, grabbing a hold of a vine draped down from a short cliff above. Looking back she saw her pod sink, taking her weapons with it. Scrambling to the top of the cliff was an easy task, and took but a few minutes. Anna fell on her back panting. She tapped the comms Button, but there was no response except the scratchy static.

“Fuck” she mumbled, only now checking herself for wounds. Her armor had taken the brunt of the impact, and could taste copper in her mouth. She was alive, it was a good start. Looking around her surroundings she felt very concerned. Her HUD’s radar and compass weren’t working. She looked up, but could only see the canopy the giant trees gave. She began to head down river, figuring there might be a civilization or military camp situated by it. As she jogged along the high bank of the river she was amazed at the size of things. The shrubbery and plants were all gigantic; the grass that covered the floor was up to her knees. The trees seemed like looming sky scraper. Here and there small creatures skittered, it was in an odd way beautiful. Earth had become a wasteland. She wondered if this planet would suffer the same fate at the hands of humans.

Something shifted in the taller bushes ahead, out of view, deciding its best not to deal with something big enough to shake a plant the size of a house. As she corrected her course, going around the big plant she felt eyes watching her she picked up her pace, at a slow sprint, further down river. Whatever had been in the bushes was following her, she could feel it watching her… hear it moving. As if to scare Anna enough, it was slithering. Memories of her nightmare played back in her mind, slowly tugging her combat knife out of her boot-sheath, ready for the what-ever-it-is to strike. But the creature didn’t, just kept not-so-sneakily following. She stopped finally, summoning the courage to face it. Turning of her heel she was ready for it. “Who is there? Come on out!” she yelled to the nothing, waiting a response. After a long pause a slight girl’s giggle sounded

“My, my, brave little one you are” the creature laughed. “Acting so tough” Anna backed up a bit, bumping into something. She turned, looking up. The creature was massive. It had a woman’s upped body, to the waist and from there it became a snake’s body. She was at least 85 feet tall from head to ground (not including her tail that dragged behind her) Her Red eyes shone as she looked down at the tiny soldier. “My meals rarely talk back” Anna felt the impulse to run but stood her ground, half frozen by fear and half stupidly stubborn the snake-woman chuckles, plucking Anna up in her delicate hand, bringing her up to eye level.

Anna struggled against the massive creature’s grip, but it was no use. “What the hell are you?” Anna asked the creature, her blue eyes staring into the monster’s red ones.

“Curious child?” she asked with a smirk. “Why don’t you find out?” she laughed, placing Anna in her mouth, swallowing whole.

Anna slid down the monster’s throat, landing in a small fleshy stomach chamber filled part way with yellow acid. Anna Screamed, crying, repeatedly stabbing at the beast’s inner belly with her knife only to see the acid melt it to the hilt. Soon enough her armor and clothing was gone, but it only tinged to her fair skin. She sighed, realizing she’d soon die. She slowly blacked out.

Anna awoke to the chatter of birds, lying in soft grass. She sighed with a short giggle at the nightmare she’d had. But she noticed something odd. She could only feel one of her legs. Looking down she saw a serpentine tail all the way to her waist. She screamed out loud, shuffling away till she backed into a tree, as if she could escape it. She looked terrified around, realizing this was indeed Frayalva…. Except… smaller…

Bioshock Chronicles

Story one

The Daddy and the Wonka

Rapture, the very name can inspire great awe or great hatred towards the underwater city.-utopia. Since its conception in the 1960’s this underwater world has degraded. It once was a world free of the surface leader’s grip free of censor, god, and king. Why you ask did this city descend into madness? The discovery of a miracle-substance called Adam. Adam can rewrite DNA to do anything. This is known as splicing. The development of Addictive tonics and manipulations became common place in rapture’s last good years but splice your DNA with Adam too much and you will become a insane slicer- a cruel twisted former human-being that would kill for Adam. Only a hand full of sane, un-spliced people remain in the city now.

Rapture housing district/marketplace
1960

She ran. The little girl no older than 7 ran as fast as she could through the glass-walled halls of rapture’s housing district, a monstrous man-turned-splicer scaled the walls behind her, clamoring along the glass making a huge racket the meat hooks in his boiled-hands scratching the unbreakable glass. The girl found herself cornered as the tunnel dipped low into the flooded area or rapture. She fell over, Scampering backwards to the waters edge. The splicer Dropped off the ceiling in front of her with a hissing laugh “shh… shh…” the splicer chimed with a cruel chuckle. “It’s all over now little girl ill makes it quick” he raised one of the rusted hooks in his hand high, about to strike down onto her. The water rippled behind them as a mammoth of a man in a diving suit rose from the ocean-flooded hall. The giant armored man took a heavy step, driving his fist into the splicer’s mutant face, making the monster stumble back. His right arm had a mounted Auger Drill on it, it whirred to life the engine attached to his back Coughing and sputtering as the auger began to spin slowly. “I was just kidding!” the splicer screamed as the drill made contact with his head, pinning him to a wall, and throttling the gas. The auger made short work of the Splicer’s life, letting the now headless corpse drop. The drill sputtered to a stop, the man turning to the little girl still cowering on the ground.

She looked human enough, if not a bit pale skinned, her eyes glowed a soft yellow. She wore a worn light pink dress, her brown hair tied into a small pony tail. The man in the suit offered a heavy hand to the little girl. She gingerly took grasp of the hand, he pulled her up easily, her small weight literally weighing nothing to him. She stared up at him a long moment, the Yellow lense of his diving helmet giving no betrayal of emotion, clouded over with grime and dirt. The tall man began to stomp off down the hallway the girl had come from without a word, his foot steps making loud thumps and rumbled the floor below him. The small child chased after him, easily catching up to the slow man. “Dad..dy?” she asked quietly, Grabbing the armored man’s gloved hand gently. He paused a moment, glancing down at the little girl. “Daddy?” she asked him again, tugging on his hand, unable to move it an inch.

The man stared down at the fragile girl a long moment before responding with a mixture of mechanical noises and whale calls. The girl seemed to make sense of the bizarre language “Daddy!” she giggled happily. The man scooped the girl up, placing her up on her shoulder, back against the large oxygen tank mounted on his back. He began to move off again, re-entering the housing commons. The small marketplace area was decorated with live plants and grass. “Daddy…” the girl began, then paused a moment. “Angels are over there” she said, pointing at the more dangerous part of the commons. The man stared in that direction a long few minutes, before groaning again. The man knew what the little girl was. She was known as a Little Sister: an Adam harvester able to see and extract Adam off corpses or “angels” he also knew that he’d just become a Big daddy, A guardian of the little sisters. He groaned again, moving off in the direction that she’d pointed

Prior to becoming a splicer Walter “Wonka” Wilkins had been an intelligent man. He’d owned a brewery in Rapture’s fancy district and was rich as could be. As a result of his wealth he was a pudgy, snooty man Dressed in fancy clothes and a top hat. His rich also made him one of the first to splice up. When he’d tried it first he became addicted, modifying his genes and DNA so many times he eventually locked himself up in the brewery after slaughtering his workers. After the civil wars were dying down Wonka reopened his doors, and began an operation that would eventually end him. He’d started a smuggling ring: their product the little sisters. He’d armed his men with weapons to kill their big daddy protectors, and then take the girls. His operation had claimed many girls for his own, giving him a limitless supply of Adam. He was soon being back amongst the richest in Rapture. And to this day his operations have continued, covertly.

Rich district Wonk Brewery
1960

Wilkins sat in his comfy chair in the main office of the brewery, rocking back and forth in the seat, absent mindedly tossing Darts at the dart board hung on a worker’s corpse nailed to the wall with a rivet gun. A splicer stepped in, dressed in dirty coveralls. “Boss, scouts spotted another girl, she’s got a daddy with her” the mutilated man reported. Wonka sat forward, with a deep-throated chuckle.

“Remove the tin man and bring her in” he gurgled a bit, his stomach had swollen since he’d become a splicer, a nasty side effect. “And make sure the big man is dead as a doorknob. We lost Samuel and Jenkins to a fake-death by one of the Bastards” he mumbled as an after thought. The splicer worker hurried off to relay the message. Wonka sat back in his chair, glancing over at the corpse on the wall. “What’s that Joe?” he asked the corpse. “You think I should go for a walk? Splendid idea!” the insane pudgy man stumbled up, heading off through the halls of his brewery.

New storeh tiem. still workin on it


In the fall of 2009 a virus epidemic engulfed Mercy City. The outbreak was thought to be contained but cases popped up all over the eastern side of the states. What the news coverage failed to mention to the general public was the fact the virus didn’t just kill the infected victim, but make them flesh-hungry monsters, Modern day Zombies. The government’s cleanup program CEDA tried their best but ultimately failed in their efforts, effectively causing more damage than good. Flash forward two weeks and the entire eastern side of the United States have fallen the only holdout is in New Orleans where the clumped together CEDA workers and US military attempt to hold back the hordes of infected.

Meanwhile all over America stories of survival take place. Many of these tales of bravery don’t end well. There is simply to many infected to fight, you kill one, only to have him replaced with 10 more.

Elle was one such tale. In life, she fought the infection with tooth and nail. Cheerleader turned guerilla warfare soldier. She wore camouflage fatigues, combat boots and a camouflage vest, a fisherman’s floppy hat on her head, one of her grandfather’s favorite possessions. Her hideout of Mat’s hardware held a long time with the aide of her friends. The barricades kept the freaks out save one or two who got in by other means. But, then, three weeks into the fight the new intelligent species of zombie made themselves known. These monsters have powers that can end a survivor hastily. Elle was the first to meet this new threat. A hoody wearing zombie leapt through the glass skylight, and jumped like a hopping frog from the walls, to the ground, hurling himself at El’ slamming into her with his full force. After that her friends came to help, but not before the Special infected raked its claws across her chest, rending the flesh. It was not a fatal attack, but what it had initiated was.

Elle awoke dumped outside the hardware store, she hurt all over, a stinging pain in her legs and chest. She looked down at herself, the wound from the jumping thing had been patched up, but then she looked at her hands. The skin was a light gray, in other words, infected. Elle let out a howl of terror suprising herself with the noise. One of her former allies stood behind the barricades, rifle leveled on her. “Go on, GET!” he barked, firing the gun in the air. The pain of doing this to her was obvious across his face. Elle got up weakly, finding her legs burned like hellfire. She tried to speak, to reason with him, but just a strangled noise came from her throat, she clamped her cold hands over her mouth, slowly backing off. The man raised the gun to shoot her, but a second one of the former survivors shoved the barrel of the gun down. Her father had saved her. He gave her one final stern look before closing the barricade. And then, she was alone.








Elle cried silently, gently rocking herself back and forth, praying her friends and father would open the door for her. After 3 hours of this, she gave up and slowly stood, finding her legs burned worse. She took a few slow steps towards the door, but paused, watching the entrance before turning and leaving. She found her walk was different, it felt unnatural, but it was much quicker. On a whim she tried running, and found herself accelerating down a road. As the enjoyment of the speed ebbed she came to a realization she couldn’t stop, at least, until she slammed smack-dab into a group of tin trashcans, sending her flying a few feet before slamming into the ground.

She painfully got up again, shaking her head, dispelling the dizziness swimming though her mind. She looked around, unaware of how far she’d come or where she was for that matter. The infected all watched her, their milky white eyes fixated on the intruder. There were some 10 of them all about. One roared throatily at her before surging before. The lone infected slammed into the surprised girl, Elle brought her hands up to protect herself as the common infected tried to savage her with ragged claws. She caught the snarling man by the wrists and instinctively pulled back, throwing the man over her head; he landed with a thud on the concrete behind her.

Two more of the gaggle of infected growled at her, sprinting forward. Without thinking Elle lashed out at one with a kick, her boot met his face with a sickening crunch, the second one tackles her onto her back. Elle drew back her fist and delivered a punch into the face of the snarling zombie pinning her. He flew off of her, landing a few feet away. The others slowly backed away before fleeing, and all together she was alone yet again.

Being sure not to accelerate out of control again Elle slowly moved up the empty streets. The infected seemed to know she was trouble and only stared at her, as if their brains couldn’t decide if she was an ally or an enemy. That realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She was infected, but still had her memories and personality, her human side was intact. How was this possible? No other infected displayed any sign of their formed humanity…

She reached a boarded up home going up to it she peered through a crack in the wooden barricades on the windows. Inside a man sat huddled in the corner, wide eyes watching where she was. The man was uninfected and held a shotgun close to his chest. His thinning hair and wrinkled face indicated some age. “I- I know your out there!” the older survivor yelled terrified at Elle, aiming the gun. The loud shot rang out; Elle leapt from the peephole as the buckshot blew the barricade away to splinters. Elle realized she was running again, much faster than before and again she found she couldn’t stop, she seemed to have more control over turning however. Instead of relatively soft tin cans to crash she found herself suddenly slammed face first into a brick wall, making the lights go out in her head.





The patter of rain awoke her from the pained sleep. Her brain drowned in pain and confusion, she felt her forehead tentatively and found it to be bleeding, the rain overhead intensified to a storm as the wind swept at her and the rain pelted her. Confused and dazed she got up and searched for shelter: any shelter. What she found was something nobody would have wanted. A infected man of massive proportions. His waist down remained relatively human, but his waist up was another story, at near 7ft high the man had the musculature of a human tank. His stance was like that of a gorilla, using it’s massive arms to support its tiny legs and feet, It roared furiously at her, a very guttural noise for its lack of a jaw. It’s tongue wobbled sickeningly.


Elle slowly took a few steps back, raising her hands, but the tank did not buy it. He took a quick few thundering steps, the ground shook with each. It roared again before charging. Elle shrieked as the ton of muscle and mutation tried to pound her into the cement. She jumped over his large, relatively slow arm, and shot up his arm before leaping off the tank’s shoulder, landing with a roll on the ground, getting to her feet she took off down the alleyway to her left, realizing she was running again. A massive Dumpster sailed through the air, crashing down in front of her, the tank was still in hot pursuit, and made it clear he was not going to let her escape. Elle ran face-first into the hard object, being flattened on her back, she got up, forcing herself to refocus and not pass out, she searched for a escape, any escape. She spotted a rainspout on the brick wall of the alley, she scrambled up it onto the roof, satisfied thinking she’d outsmarted the tank.

But this wasn’t the case. The beast punched a fist into the bricks, making itself a handhold and began to ascend the wall as a steady, frightening speed. Elle took off again, heading towards the edge of the building, trying to roof access door, to find it was locked. She shrieked, realizing there was no other way down. The tank crested the edge of the building, roaring angrily at her. Elle panicked, and beat on the door frantically, finding soon her hand punctures the door, with this knowledge she beat it down until it shattered enough to unlock it from the inside. The tank was almost on her by the time she scrambled through the opening and down the stairs, she found herself in the hallway of a apartment building.

Not caring to look around she moved forward, opening a door hastily into a restroom, the tank bashed the door in right behind her. Elle dodged another meaty fist, then another before trying to jump over it again, this time meeting finding her face back-handed by the tank, sending her crashing into a wall across the room. She felt her bones were broken, but there was no way she’d die here. Thinking somewhat straighter she searched for something: anything to escape the behemoth: her eyes settled on a metal grate to a vent.







Shooting up she tried to make for it, but was met with the tank’s fist again. She felt something crack in her chest, a rib possible. And felt the taste of copper in her mouth as she hacked up blood. She weakly got up, not bothering to try and make for the vent. She suddenly felt the brunt of her injuries, and felt blood running down her leg, or at least she hoped it was blood, her left arm was limp, and one eye was bruised so bad it refused to open. The tank snorted in a laugh, as it stepped forward. As Elle’s world went black, she heard an odd noise, a girls shriek, but, it was soon silent.

Elle’s eyes stirred weakly under the lids, her body immediately one big spike of pain, but that was a good sign: she was still alive somehow. The tank’s huffing and snorting noises weren’t present, nor was the odd shrieking girl she’d heard prior to it.

Trinity grinned. “21, gentlemen, I appear to of won again” she announced, raking up the multi colored plastic poker chips on the blackjack table. The three men she was dealing for groaned in defeat, tossing their cards down and wandered off. Trinity worked for the Grand luck casino, as a dealer for the table games. She enjoyed her job, winning at her favorite pass times and getting paid to do it. Not to mention the fact if she lost, she wouldn’t be in the hole. They practically paid her to lose too.

Trinity stood tall at near 6 feet tall, her slender hourglass form showing even through her uniform. Her eyes were a sky-blue color, her hair a sandy blonde, pulled into a ponytail. With her work came the uniform, a long sleeve white shirt with tight cuffs (as to prevent any form of trickery) with a black vest over the top, a black bow tie and pin-stripped gray and white pants. At 23 years old she was semi successful. She had a home, a nice home, A car and enough left over to invest in her favorite pass times, drinking and gambling.

As her shift ended she retreated to the worker’s changing room, pausing but a moment to stare at the new posters the government had issued. The one posted on the lockers read “Clean hands save lives” the acronym CEDA was printed below. “What the hell is CEDA?” she mumbled to herself, changing out of her uniform, into her street clothes, baggy pants with an orange long sleeved turtleneck. She flipped out her pack of cigarettes, observing the poster again. She had heard rumors of some kind of virus going around, called the green flu. Even the casino-goers wore protective facemasks or looked pale most of the time.

She shrugged and strolled outside, lighting up in the dark parking lot, walking towards her Car a few meters away. The infectious flu had taken grips of the small Vegas-like City just outside Philadelphia. She drove home, CEDA’s posters were everywhere. On street posts, doors, windows, even on garbage bags that littered the streets… something was most defiantly wrong here.
As usual it was the same routine the next morning. Get up. Get ready. Go to work. Trinity stepped into the changing room, donning her uniform before heading to her assigned table. Finding the early risers waiting for her she hurried over, apologizing to them as she slipped into her place, picking up the deck of cards, shuffling them quickly. She observed her customers, finding one was deathly pale compared to the others. An older gentleman, he looked like he was about to vomit all over her table. The other two seemed worried too. “Sir?” she asked, staring at him. “Sir, can you hear me?” the only response was a twitch, the man cocking his head a bit, placing a hand to his forehead.

“He’s got to have the green flu!” the other customer shrieked, stumbling back, away from the table. “Yea! We need to turn him over to those CEDA folks!” the other agreed.

“Sir. Respond to me please.” Trinity put a more demanding tone to her voice, staring at the man. The older man slowly rose his head, meeting eyes with Trinity. The eyes were a milky white color, his brow furrowed in anger. He let out an angry shriek, lunging at the nearby customer, tackling him to the floor.

“Oh god! AGHH” the attacked man screamed as the infected one bit into his Jugular, forcing the noise to come to a stop, a sickening gurgling noise replacing the scream for help, A pool of blood forming under him. Trinity took two steps away hastily, happy to have the table between the two of them. She rapidly tapped the panic button hidden under the desk.

The infected man turned and glared at the other who was rapidly backing away. Trinity tore her gaze from the scene before her, noticing chaotic events erupting all over the casino. The people with gray skin were attacking everyone else. The security would do what they could but—there was no way… there was to many people going crazy! It was like a zombie apocalypse was unfolding before her eyes. It was a zombie apocalypse unfolding before her eyes…




George Rockwell didn’t move, sitting high in the tree, sights aimed through the scope of his hunting rifle. He centered in on his target, a large Buck deer. He took a deep breath and held it, steadying his aim, slowly pressing against the trigger. He fired. The round sailed through the air. The buck fell a new ventilation hole through its head. He let himself grin ever so slightly. A clean kill. He dropped from his vantage point, into a low crouch, slinking forward carefully, being quiet as he could be. He inspected his kill, finding the buck to b a perfect addition to his trophy collection.

He heard a snap in the trees behind him, to his trained senses it was more than enough to have his rifle ready and senses on high alert. Whatever it was moved slowly, and walked on two feet. Pretty heavy. That ruled out bears, deer and wolves. So what was it. George slipped away from his kill. Curious to see what is was. The walking continued until the target emerges from the tall grass, into the clearing where the buck had fallen. It was a human, a man. His clothing was torn and bloodied the blood coming form the many wounds littering his gray skin. His mouth was bloody and eyes bled. George was shocked at the sight. What the hell was that thing? He had lived in his mountain cabin for years alone, and missed everything about the infection. Including the violent turn almost a week ago.



The infected human kneeled down before the dead deer, digging into its flesh, feeding on the raw meat, and ignoring the bristly hair and tough skin. “God…” George muttered under his breath watching. It growled, turning to him, apparently having acute senses. That thing wasn’t human, just some kind of sick joke of nature… George thought as he squeezed the trigger of his rifle, blowing the head off its shoulders.

The headless corpse collapsed over the deer, blood splurging from it’s headless neck “what in Sam hell” =George grimaced, choking down bile. He retreated backwards, up the tree he had used as cover to fire at the buck, observing the tall brushes scattered about the ground. He was terrified at what he saw, more of the savage human things, a lot more of them. He counted 12, no 13, no 14… 15? 16! The number raised rapidly as he scanned the forest floor. He dropped back to the forest floor and sprinted for his shack nearby, shouldering the rifle.

Unlocking his door he threw it open before slamming it behind him, moving the end table of his living room as a barricade against it. He quickly gathered supplies, sensing the need for them would be soon coming. He gathered Food, ammo, water, and guns. Lots of guns. Two pistols, his hunting rifle and a few hastily made Molotov cocktails. What a waste of beer he thought grimly, putting everything in his pack, including a few extra pistols and his antique double barreled shotgun. He holstered two of his pistols on hip holsters, the rifle over his back. He quickly loaded up a bandoleer to carry even more ammo and fit the 3 Molotovs into loops on his belt. After gathering all his belongings he hoisted the pack on, ready for whatever these new things were. It had been awhile since he went to the city. Maybe he could find out what’s going on there…





Naomi Hakase stood silent in the dimly lit operation observation room, wearing her light blue nurse’s uniform, latex gloves of the same color on her hands, a white mask covering mouth. How she hated these things she thought irritably, breathing through the annoying face covering. The doctor was scheduled to perform for an audience of medical students. Naomi being a simple assistant, she was to monitor the anesthesia amounts and do whatever doctor Patterson wanted. Her fellow nurse, a young woman by the name of Vicky stood nervously across the operation table. This was her first live operation she’d be an aid for.

The doctor entered the room, another assistant pushing a stretcher carrying the patient right behind him. “Nurse, please prepare for the operation” he said, walking to the sink to wash his hands.

“Yes doctor, Vicky please move the patient onto the operation table.” Naomi said, preparing the doctor’s tools, organizing them on the tray, and prepping the anesthesia tanks for use.

“Right...” Vicky spoke, her voice somewhat broken. Her nerves were getting to her… he skin had even gone pale. Naomi remembered how it felt her first time too. Incredible pressure, so many worries and thoughts. After taking the cart from the other nurse Vicky wheeled the patient over, wrestling the heavy-set male onto the table in the middle of the circular room.

“Are we ready to begin?” the doctor spoke, donning his gloves. Vicky answered his with a loud gagging sound and a splatter of blood on the floor. The patient bolted upright, leaning away from the sick nurse. Naomi took a few steps away.






“Vicky!” she yelled, fearful. Vicky slowly turned her gaze to the patient, whom she lunged at. “Oh god!” Naomi screamed as the infected nurse bit into the fat man’s shoulder. He yelled with pain, batting her away, easily overpowering the smaller woman. “Oh god, oh god!” Naomi repeated, about to hyperventilate, taking more steps back.

The doctor had run to the intercom, frantically calling for help. A loud ”thunk thunk thunk” noise came from above. Naomi looked to see the spectators being attacked too. One of the gray skinned men banged on the soundproof glass, trying to get through, pushing it’s bloodied face to the window.

Vicky slowly stood shakily, one of her legs at an odd, broken angle. She howled and lunged at the patient again, this time tearing a large chunk of flesh from his cheek. He screamed, collapsing off the table, grabbing a scalpel from the tool tray nearby, driving it between her eyes as hard as he could muster, producing a sickening crunch as it penetrated her skull and brain. Vicky gagged a bit, eyes losing what little color remained, the patient pushed her off his stomach angrily, knocking into the tool tray, with toppled over, perforating him with medical implements, ending his pained struggled swiftly