St. Paul’s Hospital

Well, he had nowhere else to go...

Alex shaped his right hand into a claw (which looked a lot smaller than he was used to) and tore away the thick tendrils blocking the entrance. Once inside he found even more biomass spreading over the remains of the entrance’s information desk. And pretty much everything else. Hacking and slashing away at the viral vines, Alex made his way to the staircase and down to the dark morgue. A pathologist named Professor Bradley Ragland had worked here. Once, he had saved Alex’s life from a cancer that had been devouring him and helped locate his sister’s infected kidnapper. He’d been incredibly thankful that someone was willing to help him, considering most people either ran away from him screaming or wanted to end his life. But now he wasn’t sure whether Ragland was still alive either. Which made him realize that going to the morgue may have been a pointless endeavour.

Alex shoved the left-over half of the morgue’s double-door to the side with a little bit too much force, sending it flying off its rusty hinges. It smashed into the room’s far-right corner, splintering loudly. Alex flinched; he’d probably get unwanted attention from equally unwanted guests.

Giving the deserted morgue a quick look revealed a clear lack of bodies, and when Alex took a closer look at the floor and the tables (which were still in place and mostly untouched by the creeping biomass, to his surprise) he found no documents or notes. The blackboard next to the computer was also wiped clean, save for a fine layer of dust.

Alex stood in the room, completely lost. Now what? He glanced at the monitor on the table. If he was lucky for once, the computer might still work and he could check the date. Certain that the power was off, he took a look around for the circuitry box. The moment the electricity returned, lights flickered on in the morgue. With that, the place looked a lot more familiar already. Only one thing missing: The Doc himself.

“Where the hell did you go, Ragland?”, Alex thought out loud.

Now that the computer was hopefully operable again, Alex pushed the tower’s power button. He sighed with relief when the lights winked on and the screen flickered to life. For what felt like the first time in his so short life, things were going well for him (Excluding the cryo-stasis and waking up to a Manhattan from the end-times). The computer had finally reached the login screen, into which Alex entered Ragland’s password and ID. He’d given it to him before he left to find the first contact location with the “insider”, who had actually been Cross. Remembering him made Alex pause for a moment. Admittedly, he felt remorseful, in particular because they never really got to know each other. Despite their hostile introduction, Alex had developed a strange soft spot for that hardass of a captain.

He shook his head and cleared his thoughts, returning to the computer. It was taking its sweet time, and Alex was about to give the tower a gentle tap with his foot, when the home screen finally showed up. In the lower right-hand corner was the time and date, reading 09:29 pm, 05/16/2010. Alex blinked in disbelief. 19 months since he was born on the floor of Penn Station, the 1st November 2008. He’d been gone for a long time.

“19 months...” shaken, Alex buried his face in his numb, trembling hands. His skin crawled with agitated tendrils as his mind came up with all manners of scenarios, none of them comforting. What had been his last memories before the vault? He remembered again; being captured by Blackwatch shortly after having reformed himself from the biomass puddle, what was left of him after the nuke. Since then about 19 months had flown by and god knows what happened in between. It certainly wasn’t good, taking New York’s look into consideration. He didn’t know where to start, so much was going on in his head.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!” His voice echoed in the empty hallway. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Same thing as before. The only thing he’s ever known.. Hunt, kill, consume, and become even more of a monster. What’s gonna be left of me by the end of this?

He didn’t want to admit it, but it was inevitable. It was foolish to think he could be anything other than what he was made to be. A senseless killing-machine. The misery he caused himself and others wasn’t going to end anytime soon...

He sat still for a few minutes, trying but failing to blot out the tormented voices and screams in his head, which had swelled to a cacophonous choir. A knot was forming in his chest, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. The metal table beneath his fingers began to bend with each harrowing moment. Alex had to get out of the hospital. He was going to snap. Just when he got to his feet and turned, the barrel of a large handgun greeted him, poised to put a bullet between his eyes. The Blacklight entity snarled. Aggravated, Alex’ eyes traced along the shooter’s arm to look at their face. Even with a gas mask on, he would recognize those alert eyes anywhere. But now there was also a cold, calculating fury in them.

“Ragland?” Alex’ brow furrowed. Why was the Doc pointing a gun at him? ”What the hell are you doing? It’s me, Alex!”

“I know damn well who you are and what you’ve done, Mercer.” Ragland spat Alex’ name with undisguised reproach. Alex bared his inhumanly-sharp teeth at the accusation. What did he do?

“What are you talking about? I’ve been in some sort of Gentek freezer for 19 months, what the hell am I supposed to have done?”

“Don’t you dare play tricks on me. You’re not getting out of this alive, not with the bullets that are in this gun,” Ragland’s voice dropped to a threatening whisper “They should cure you.”

Alex was genuinely concerned for his well-being.

“Look, Ragland, whoever you think I am, whoever did that out there,” Alex clenched his jaw in frustration,

“It wasn’t me.”

Spoken through gritted teeth, his statement did nothing to dissuade the pathologist. Ragland eyed him suspiciously, but still not lowering the firearm. Alex was out of options. He couldn’t slap the pistol out of Ragland’s hand; he’d been wise enough to put distance between them. And if Alex made a move he’d have a quite possibly lethal bullet somewhere. He knew Ragland had studied him more than anybody else still alive, so it was no mistake to assume he had the means to create something lethal to the Virus. Which begged the question: how much had Gentek been able to study him? Alex was pulled out of his stupor when Ragland’s radio crackled.

“All units in the vicinity, Hades is engaging Zeus on the rooftop of Penn Station. Rendezvous for coordinated attack.”

So there is another me, Alex thought, confused at how this could have happened.

The look on Ragland’s face confirmed that he was equally bewildered by the announcement. Gradually, the situation became clear to the pathologist, and he curtly lowered the gun and switched the safety on.

Both men stood in the room, stunned. Save for the rasp of Ragland’s gas mask, it was pin-drop quiet. Until he took off his mask and finally spoke up.

“Well…This is the last thing I expected...” he trailed off, but quickly realising what Alex had said before. “You were in cryogenic storage? For 19 months?”

The Virus sighed with relief. “Yeah, I slept through whatever hell’s broken loose. I found out right before you came in,” Alex gestured at the computer behind him. “So, the fuck’s happened?”

Ragland shook his head slightly, baffled at the mess unfolding before his very eyes, “It had been a few weeks since the military completely pulled out of Manhattan, in January, when that other you came back, and...” Ragland trailed off, his voice going faint, “Alex, he infected New York. I don’t know why, but since then things have gone downhill, badly. Blackwatch and Gentek are worse than ever; Brooklyn’s become the Yellow Zone, Staten Island is Green, and...well, you can probably guess what Manhattan is...”

“Red.” Alex concluded. Great,  the entirety of NY’s become a traffic light of scientific malpractices and shady government bioweapon programs. And apparently it was because of some imposter.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Hm,” Alex mulled over his options; go face that bastard who had his name and meet this Hades person (no doubt another infected similar to him), or try to find Dana— “Wait, how’s Dana?” Ragland blinked, thrown off by the sudden change of topic. “She woke up a month after Blackwatch pulled out of Manhattan. She’s still in the red zone, hacking into Blackwatch and Gentek networks under the moniker ‘Athena’. I don’t think—Alex, are you alright?”

Alex huffed out a breath as he tried to suppress a grin. His sister was alive. Maybe not safe (who would be, in this city?), but alive and well. For a moment it occurred to him how odd it was to hide his emotions behind his jacket sleeve, and what elicited this human behaviour, but he quickly brushed the thought away. “Doc, you have no idea how good it is to hear that..”, Alex muttered, before looking up at the other. “Thank you.”

A rarity, Alex Mercer of all people being sincerely thankful, which Ragland grasped. “Glad I could help. I guess, at the bare bones, we’re all still fighting the same fight: put a stop to Gentek before one of their goddamn experiments puts a stop to the world as we know it.”

Alex couldn’t agree more. Which left one issue, that of the FAKE BITCHASS ZEUS malevolent copy. “Alright, I’ll see if i can’t go and join the rooftop-party at Penn Station and meet Hades.”

“Well then I suggest you change your appearance, because last time I checked, you two look identical.”

Alex frowned, almost pouting (he should be the one to keep this outfit, not that imposter), before his body melted apart into a sea of writhing tendrils. Even with limited biomass, he formed himself a tattered, faded-red trench coat over a beige sweater, with a new pair of boots instead of loafers. And lastly, with a heavy heart, he ditched the hood.

“Looking good, I’d say,” Ragland gave him a once-over, before nodding his approval. He patted Alex’s shoulder. “Now go kick his butt.”

Alex gave a raspy laugh. “With pleasure…”