Chapter Text
Sebastian doesn’t think he’s ever turned faster in his life, but he still only barely catches Beacon Hospital’s doors slamming shut. The sound echoed oddly in the dusty air of the silent city. Sacrilegious was the word that flew through Sebastian’s mind.
Kidman ran up the stairs, pushing past him hard –not out of malice, he was just blocking the most direct route. He watched her try to pull the doors open, then push, then give a final, frustrated kick before he fully absorbed what was happening.
They were right, he thought, his mind starting to work properly again, this is different.
There was another explanation which, though unlikely, forced him to ask, “Could she have run back to check the hospital?”
Kidman turned her resigned glare from the door to him. “She wouldn’t. Stevie’s not dumb enough to try and run off on her own here.” She made her way down the stairs once again to stand at Sebastian’s side. “He’s not going to let us get to her through there.”
“No, he won’t,” Sebastian agreed. They stood in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Last time, he’d been transported somewhere completely different whenever he was separated. From Kidman’s face, he knew they were both thinking she might not even be in the same hospital. Sebastian had to admit that he would rather Kidman had been grabbed then Stevie –not because he preferred Stevie’s company or trusted her more in a fight, but simply because Kidman had proven herself capable of surviving here on her own before. Stevie had not.
Kidman broke the silence. “We should keep moving. He’s not going to leave us alone forever.” She started walking without waiting for a reply or even to see if he was following. If Sebastian hadn’t been looking closely, he might have missed her shaking hands. He made the decision not to comment. He’d preferred his grief unnoticed at best, or ignored if necessary. He’d afford the same respect for Kidman, even if what she was feeling wasn’t entirely grief.
The dust had cleared more, leaving only the slightest traces hovering in the air around them. Almost every single one of the roads that ran the same direction as Azure Avenue had been blocked off in some way, either with the crumbling remains of fallen buildings or ten care high pile-ups. The destruction left them with very few options. Sebastian trusted Kidman to choose the route that would get them there quickest.
The foreboding gates of Beacon acted as a boundary between the neat, if dusty, lawn of the hospital and the chaos of the world beyond. Sebastian felt certain that a horde of Haunted would appear the moment they stepped beyond the gates, or that the ground would open up and swallow them whole, or that one of Ruvik’s larger creations would appear and crush them beneath its hands –or tentacles, as the case may be. When Kidman stepped over the threshold he nearly moved to stop her, but when no imminent danger appeared, he followed.
The empty streets seemed to encourage paranoia –the many dark windows of the buildings looming over them feeling like they held countless eyes within, watching the two below. Though no the streets remained empty aside from broken glass, twisted steel and crumbling concrete, Sebastian kept a steady grip on his gun.
Kidman paused, scanning the area for the best possible route that didn’t sacrifice too much time.
“How do you feel about going into those buildings?” she asked without turning around.
Sebastian followed her eyes down a smaller street running almost parallel to Azure Avenue. Only the top of a smaller building had broken, covering the street and one large concrete block and landed broken through the roof of two adjacent buildings down to about the third floor, acting as a bridge between them.
Sebastian considered –a smaller area made it less likely for a large horde or a giant creature to appear, and the feeling of hundreds of unseen eyes watching him hadn’t abated at all.
“Let’s go,” he said. Even if the streets had remained safe so far, there was no guarantee they would remain that way.
As they moved on their chosen path, both Sebastian and Kidman snatched glances back at the hospital, hoping in vain that their lost companion might appear. Sebastian wanted to use the relative calm of the walk to question Kidman –on the organisation, Stevie and her past –but he couldn’t bring himself to. Stevie’s disappearance had shaken her, even if she wasn’t showing it, and Sebastian doubted that asking her potentially invasive questions which she probably wouldn’t or couldn’t answer wouldn’t help matters and might just lead her to lash out at him –something he wouldn’t be able to blame her for. She might be more likely to let something slip now, but Sebastian wouldn’t sink to that level.
The glass of the entrance to the building had been shattered by a stray piece of concrete debris. The glass crunched and cracked under their feet as they stepped over the door’s remains, into what might have been the ground floor of a small apartment building. A security or admin desk took up the right of the room, while a noticeboard and post boxes lined the back wall, by the elevator. Seats took up most of the left and stairs were tucked neatly into a corner, behind a fire door.
The new proud centrepiece of the area was the piece of concrete that had broken through, some twisted metal sticking out the edges.
“Elevator or stairs?” Kidman asked as they stepped around the concrete.
Sebastian had already decided. “The elevator’s got about a fifty-fifty chance of taking us where we don’t want to go.”
“Or trapping us in an enclosed space with a creature,” Kidman agreed, and she moved to open the fire door while Sebastian levelled his gun, prepared for anything to jump out.
Kidman wasted no time, opening the door and moving well to the side to get out of Sebastian’s line of fire.
The empty, innocuous stairwell that faced him seemed almost more ominous than one that had been covered in blood, though still not as threatening as a horde of Haunted, or (God forbid) Ruvik himself. Sebastian lowered his gun and shook his head –all clear.
Kidman lead the way up the stairs, checking each corner for traps or monsters. Sebastian cursed Ruvik for keeping them both on edge and giving them nothing to show for it –if it weren’t for the unnatural silence of the building (no hum of the heating system, no drifting conversation from the floors they passed, no traffic outside), it would’ve been easy to mistake this as any normal, real apartment building.
When they reached the fourth floor, a giant hole in the building let in a little extra light, but not much –the city’s cloudy sky filtered down light of the same quality of the fluorescent bulbs of the building. The air was still and the same lukewarm of the STEM tub’s liquid.
The chunk missing from the building had been taken by a wide concrete column, the rubble mostly fallen into the alley below. Enough had fallen into the stairwell that it required some clambering from the third flight up to make it, and even more to get onto the column itself, but Kidman and Sebastian managed it with little difficulty.
What Sebastian hated was that he had to put away his gun to keep his balance –while some injuries had a habit of mysteriously disappearing in the STEM system, a twisted ankle was not something he had the patience to deal with.
Even worse was the exposure of walking across the column to the neighbouring apartment block. Sebastian felt all those eyes on him again, and for the seven seconds it took him to cross, he fully expected to hear a resounding bang followed by searing pain, or a hellish screeching followed by the booming footsteps of some giant monster.
He reached the other side safely, though, as did Kidman.
They had entered a wrecked apartment, a bed crushed under the weight of concrete and rubble knocking tables and chairs and denting cabinets.
Kidman and Sebastian shared a look, and he understood that she felt the same as he did –that the silence, the stillness and the resounding emptiness of the city was designed to frighten them. Even knowing that, it was doing a damn good job. It was lucky that they didn’t have to talk to address that, because Sebastian was certain that if either of them pierced the silence for too long, other things would start to.
He also didn’t want to make any more noise than necessary, so when they tried the apartment door only to find it locked, he grimaced as he prepared to kick it down.
“Did you even think of looking for the keys?” Kidman asked, before he could slam his foot down by the lock.
“Are you sure there are any?” Sebastian returned, somewhat defensive, because hell, he hadn’t thought of that. In his defence, ‘keys’ were not something he associated with the STEM system. ‘Elaborate, illogical puzzles’ were closer.
“No, but spending five minutes looking might expend less energy than kicking down a solid security door.” With that, Kidman turned towards what was once an open living area and began rifling through the kitchen cabinets.
Sebastian shrugged, but relented to checking the bedroom.
The bedroom, half-buried in concrete, still has a relatively unscathed bedside table that just escaped being crushed by the bed it was placed to the side of. It seems as likely a place as any, so he carefully steps over the rubble and kneels down, opening the first drawer. He could hear Kidman searching through the open door, the only sound in the strange silence.
There were no keys, only a note –one he feels compelled to read.
It appeared to be a diary entry of some sort –the handwriting was printed and neat, easily readable.
Memo going around this office today about some woman getting a bit too close to us. Normally something like this doesn’t get a lot of attention, ‘cause Jim’s been getting bolder recently with his ‘acquisitions’ and relatives and friends are clammering for answers. The only reason she warrants any notice is because she’s from out of town and pretty well known where she’s from. Undue attention and shit if she makes a target of herself.
The memo was probably something from a Mobius staff member, but who? It had to have been written or read by someone who had been hooked up to the STEM. The only Mobius staff he knew had been hooked up were Stevie, Kidman and Tatiana, and he doubted any of them had written this. There might be more, though –God only knew how many people had been hooked up to the STEM system.
The woman referenced was almost definitely Stevie, and ‘Jim’ probably meant ‘Jimenez’. Other than that, it didn’t provide him with much information. He’d known, or guessed, that Stevie wasn’t a KC local and that Jimenez wasn’t above making people with connections disappear, though he preferred his own staff or patients. The only question it brought up was why only Jimenez was referenced as making people disappear, and that could be dismissed as someone simplifying for the sake of an easy note.
He dropped the note in frustration… but then sighed, crumpled it up and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe he could ask Kidman about it once they’d found the damn keys.
Before he could open the next drawer, he froze –the thought of Kidman had brought something to the forefront of his mind.
He could no longer hear her searching. The terrible silence permeated everything.
Not for long, though, as the soft click of a closing door sounded from behind him –not the front door. The bedroom door.
He rose, slowly, before turning around.
“Ruvik.”
***
In Beacon Hospital’s foyer, now lit only by fluorescent lights (those that still worked, in any case), Stevie picked herself up and dusted herself off.
She tried the door as a formality, knowing it was locked. The handle barely turned at all. With that done, she turned to assess the changes in the hospital.
It did not depict the scene of the massacre, thankfully, though the sharp smell of blood surrounded her and stuck to the back of her throat, despite the lack of apparent source. The windows were covered from the outside, with what she couldn’t tell –it looked like climbing ivy, thicker than any she’d seen before. She counted about four lights that worked, and one that insistently flickered and hurt her eyes. The wallpaper seemed mouldy and the chairs, once neatly aligned, were either ripped, knocked over or placed in the middle of aisles.
Unlike the stark atmosphere of before, Stevie felt that this was a place in which monsters lurked.
She reached for her gun –only to realise it wasn’t there.
No, she begged whatever deity might be listening, no no no. She stared desperately at the holster, hoping against hope that her eyes were merely adjusting to the reduced light and that her gun was there, right in front of her, she just couldn’t see it yet.
But if her eyes lied, her hands did not, and, trembling, they found the gun gone, the holster empty.
She searched the floor around her, eyes raking under chairs and into corners, anywhere it might have dropped, coming up with nothing.
She’d been holding it when she’d felt… something… grab her outside –in her shock, she probably dropped it and now her weapon was sealed away from her.
Panic threatened to set in, but Stevie was schooled in the art of calm. Deep breaths slowed her heart rate and cleared her head enough for her to think through her situation.
First up, standing around in the open with no weapon –bad idea.
The nurses’ desk provided the best cover in the room so, slowly, quietly, and careful to step around any fallen or poorly placed chairs, she made her way over.
It’s a setback, she told herself, but it can be overcome. You haven’t spent the last two years preparing to be killed off.
There could well be alternative weapons around. Stevie knew there were reports of all sorts of weaponry being used in the STEM world, and that they had a tendency to be left lying around. They might not be common, but she was familiar with some of Beacon Hospital –she might be able to use that to remain undetected as she searched.
A plan was well on its way to forming in her head when Stevie found her way behind the nurses’ desk, where she saw something. A familiar shape lay atop the visitor’s register, and, though she assured herself she could’ve done without it, a wave of relief rolled over her as she picked up her gun and checked –six rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber. All good.
“Thank you,” she whispered, though she didn’t know who to.
Before she could wonder too deeply, one of the doors creaked open.