#* . interactions.

he walks with a purpose , a trail of blood ( half his and half not ) falling behind from hands and feet. curiosity gets the best of him this time , as the brute finds himself moving in the direction of distressed screams. they beg for help , and he seeks to find the source of their pain. a hanging sheet blocks his way , stained with crimson. “ red on red. ” the halls of this area must hold untold nightmares. a hand lifts to rip it back , the stench of the dead growing stronger with each large step he took.

“ not alone. shh. ” the man draws in a breath , quiet besides the consistent rattling of chains that shake with each subtle movement. someone there ?

they can’t hide from him.           - but they will try. 

brain has long been deteriorating , with appearance molding into a grotesque image that stinks of rot and death. he calls himself the soldier, eager to make the difficult sacrifices that no one else will. “ come out. I’ll make this easy for you. ”

stomping along the narrow corridors of mount massive, it’s too easy to find yourself going in circles. a left turn brings him to a row of cells. they’re much like the one he was trapped in only a day before. the orderlies liked to keep him in isolation. now he is out on the hunt. he’s sure they wish they would’ve been kinder, but there’s no time to listen to their screams. there’s a guard with blood on his cheeks and a missing shoe a few meters away. he scrambles to his feet at the sight of Walker, running to the closest wall and attempting to jump and get a hand on a window’s ledge. 

Chris dashes forward, his grip finding it’s way onto the man’s ankle. it’s so small between his hands. he could break them in half if he really wanted to. yanking with enormous strength, he forces the screeching guard onto his stomach upon the floor. the soldier’s foot is quick to place itself above the victim’s skull, before stomping down with all his might. a sickening crunch echoes through the room, telling Chris only thing. he removes his foot from what used to be a man’s head, eyes darting to the rest of the large cell block, and that’s when he sees someone. for a moment, he think it’s another hallucination from those horrid experiments, but blinking does not change what he lays his eyes on. it's a child. Chris sees a child, or someone very young at least. why would a child be apart of this disaster? he’s almost tempted to turn and walk away, pretend he never saw them, but instead, Chris stands still, unsure if they were real or a figment of his mind.  

they say patience is a virtue. Chris disregards that. time does not slow down and does not wait for those who refuse to move. every minutes that passes by is a opportunity for disaster. you see him now, breathing heavily, chains rattling at his blood-soaked wrists, as he shoves aside barricades and rips open a locker. 

empty.

no. the variant knew he overheard the footsteps of one stumbling along here. little rats love to play games of hide and seek. he is growing sick of it. “ filth. COME OUT .”

he returns to his favorite spot. it’s a grisly scene indeed. bodies upon bodies are ripped apart , organs trailing out from the insides. he keeps them arranged neatly along the walls.  the heads , of course ,  are off from their bodies , stacked side by side on a book shelf. walker drops the latest skull between his fist onto an empty spot , taking a moment to admire the collection. before long , a new scent fills the air , unlike the rot of corpses. it's different than death. they must be alive. he turns then , nostrils flaring , and moves in search of the source. 

legs trudge through the asylum’s grassy courtyard , rain pouring down from the dark skies and flying off from his shoulders. thunder cracks above , and eyes turn to look afar at a distant figure. he approaches slowly with ill intent , nothing but pain on the mind. if they caught onto him quick , there’s a chance for escape. he can’t have that happening.