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Pitch Black is the second arc of The Underground series

Chapter 18 of 22

Storming Waverly

They parked the SUV close to a mile away. Waverly Hill Asylum, actually located on top of a hill, was about a click to the north, through some dense underbrush, and up through the drainage system and directly into the maintenance room. From there, they would pan out, search and clear moving room by room. By the time anyone had been alerted, Mick and Alias would be running rampant through the old asylum. By the time they left, hopefully, Alias would come face to face with this "Shadow Player", and get some answers. As long as they stayed frosty everything should go as expected. The plan was good.

Good on paper anyway.

Alias directed the beam of light as carefully as he could down onto his map. Using both paws, he clenched the tiny LED flashlight in his muzzle. His eyes scanned the blueprint he had taken from Openshaw, memorizing it as best he could. The Doctor's files had also included an aerial view of Waverly allowing Alias to pinpoint it's exact location. By the time they had entered Waverly, there wouldn't be time for quick references. As he studied the paper, he couldn't seem to push the events at Delirium out of his mind. Alias, quite honestly, just hadn't had time to process any of this. Their fight, what she had said, what he had said, everything. He just hadn't had time to make meaning of it, and it looked like now it was too late. In his heart of hearts, Alias didn't want to see Jenna go, but this was his life, and maybe it was better she left while she could before something really bad did happen. Something that not even Alias could change. He couldn't say that he didn't value Jenna, and what she did for him, because he did. After the incident with Ian Miles, she may never forgive him. Alias didn't even like thinking about what he had said to her. It was like he reached as far down into the bile of anger and pulled out what would cut her down in the worst way. But knowing she was safe was the important part. Maybe someday she would understand, but he couldn't expect her to now. This was another reason why Alias was alone. He couldn't help but feeling a sense of loss that radiated about him like the heat of a fever. Maybe there was more to Ethel's premonition than he heeded. Regardless, right now he couldn't focus on that. He was here, in this moment, and Alias rather not fuck up any more than he already had.

Reaching behind his back after he folded the map and slipped it into his pocket, Alias's paw met the suppressed MP5 slung over his shoulder. Moving the submachine gun around where he could grip it properly, Alias cocked the gun, but left the safety on. He turned to his partner, Mick, who was decked out in mercenary gear like Alias's; flack jacket, combat boots, all in black.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Alias whispered, looking onward at the illuminated facility that was Waverly Hill.

Mick nodded. "You're forgetting who you're talking to. Need I remind you of my past?"

"Look," Alias whispered back, "I know revenge would be on the forefront of my mind." Mick shot Alias a glance. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but just don't let it go to you're head. I'm not walking out of this place alone, got that?"

"The mission comes first, Alias." Mick replied sincerely. "I'll enjoy the hell out of myself while I'm here, but I'm following your lead."

"Alright." Alias nodded his consent. "Move on my mark."

In a flash, both Mick and Alias were on their feet, moving silently through the night under cover of the darkness of the dense forest surrounding Waverly Hill. As the neared the clearing, Alias paused, looking around. The drainage tile sat at the base of the hill, emptying into a small stream near by. Taking cover behind a tree, Alias looked around, but saw nothing. He turned and looked behind him where Mick was waiting for his go code. Using his index and middle finger, Alias pointed to both his eyes, then to the large pipe. Mick nodded.

The black fox dashed across the clearing, taking advantage of the shadows created by Waverly's artificial security lights. Running as fast as he could, he quickly dropped to a knee, sliding to a stop, MP5 level with his shoulder as he scanned the area. Mick presently joined him at the mouth of the drainage pipe.

Although not very large, both Mick and Alias could fit in the pipe if they hunched over. The smell of sewage, rusty metal, and stagnant water invaded Alias's keen sense of smell, almost smothering him. His boots splashed down on the stream of water rushing from the pipe. With only the light on the end of his gun to guide him, Alias moved upward, following the hill. His muscles began to strain as he splashed through the murky cesspools that formed. Every once in a while something would squish beneath his boot, and he would lose traction. Quickly righting himself, Alias's free paw caught the side of the pipe. He simply chose not to focus on what was probably beneath his foot. Or the smell that followed.

By the time they neared their exit, the pipe seemed to be going nearly straight up. They could see light on down, confirming that their exit was near. However, only a few feet further, they were greeted with a steel gate, almost like a medieval portcullis.

"You got it?" Alias whispered to Mick, who in turn handed him what appeared to be a small spray paint can. Shaking it, Alias directed the nozzle at the gate and sprayed. He quickly made a large circle motion with his arm, and handed the can back to Mick. Looking at his chrome watch, he counted off thirty seconds. As he waited, there were quieted cracks and pops coming from the gate. Bracing himself against the pipe, Alias leaned back and savagely kicked the gate.

The suppressed liquid nitrogen had done its job on the fatigued metal from decades back. The frozen steel shattered where it had been sprayed by Alias, leaving them a nice hole they could simply step through.

As they stepped through the gate, they entered a much larger room where they stepped up on a metal platform. They were right outside the maintenance room, and from there they had direct access into the heart of Waverly. The pair moved to each side of the heavy steel door. Looking at the rusted lever that would disengage the locks, it took both Mick and Alias's strength combined to force to door open. It gave off a low howl from being disturbed, like the sound of a wounded animal left to die.

From the documents and schematics taken from Openshaw, there was an entire network of access ways around Waverly. As they moved through the dimly lit corridors, Alias understood why the Shadow Player had chosen this as his location. It was like a fortress, and getting out would be much more difficult than getting in. Not knowing the deployment grid of the SRS mercs. From Mick's speculation and tainted memory, they guessed that if they started in the shower rooms and moved to the administration area, there would be a good chance they could grab this asshole.

Alias opened the door to the showers very slowly with his gun. Moonlight came in through the windows closer to the ceiling. Wet smacks could be heard echoing throughout the wide room made of tile. The two made their way onward, taking cover behind various circular pillars that hosted shower-heads.

The fur on Alias's neck shot up in alarm as he heard the static of a radio sound off, the walls causing an echo in the decrepit asylum.

Radio chatter.

Moving on the tips of his toes, Alias bolted to the door of the hallway. Pausing for a moment, he peeked around the corner. With his back turned to Alias, there stood a small cat of some type, decked out in combat gear. Using the shadows to his advantage, Alias moved quickly behind him, and in a flash had his arms around the soldier's head.

Not wasting time, Alias jerked to the right with pure malice. He could feel the guard's spine shatter through his skin that felt as rewarding as it was disgusting. Alias watched his arms twitch slightly as the last few neurons fired off as he dropped the body to the floor. Looking back at Mick, he saw the mink making sure no one was coming from behind them.

Both Alias and Mick stuck to the shadows of the decaying asylum. As he made his way through the wards, the black fox took note of the small size of the cells. One of these held Mick for weeks on end, no sunlight, no freedom. Gripping the submachine gun a little tighter, Alias set his jaw, ready for a fight that was sure to come.

Without warning, a SRS guard stepped out of a hallway on patrol. Alias's attention immediately focused in on the soldier. Stock of the gun already at his shoulder, Alias flicked the safety switch off, and squeezed the trigger.

Despite all of Alias's feelings towards his profession, he couldn't help to feel an ironic form of gratification from the recoil of a gun. For some they got this gratification from hitting a golf ball, others a baseball, or making a shot with a basketball. It was like the energy of the projectiles reversed backward, shooting electric jolts of life into him.

Mick quickly joined in on the fire-fight. The StormRaven guard reached for his gun, but was too late. His body convulsed as the tiny lead slugs found homes in various parts of his body. The flack jacket he wore protected him somewhat, but it wasn't enough. However, with his gun in paw the guard fell backwards and squeezed the trigger. Loud booms from the end of his assault rifle slammed off the smooth hard architecture amplifying them even more.

Even though the shots from the guard were in safe directions as he hadn't had time to aim, Alias knew he just triggered a silent alarm. Someone in this facility had to of heard that. They would be coming in full force now. A team of StormRaven's best. Removing the silencer from his MP5, Alias nodded to Mick. They'd see just how good SRS was.

Their pace quicken from a slow lurk, to a fast paced search and clear tactic. They moved from the wards, following the rusted over signs that were leading them to administration.

"Contacts!" Mick cried out from behind Alias.

Alias didn't even seem to think out his actions. Suddenly, he had already launched himself to the right side, out into the middle of the hallway. In that slowed, time altered state his eyes scanned the darkened hallway making out two more mercs. Feeling his fingers squeeze the trigger, micro explosions erupted from the end of the barrel. Gun powder and blood over whelmed Alias's senses. The Mercenary slammed to the ground and slid, still letting his gun sound off. A strobe effect flashed through the halls from the gunfire, ending as both guards fell backwards into pools of their own blood.

Rolling on his back, Alias flipped to his feet. Mick pulled an empty magazine from his gun, only to be replaced with a fresh, fully loaded replacement. They were quickly moving again, as they both knew SRS would be coming down hard on their position. They would coordinate their soldiers and try and sandwich Alias and Mick from both directions.

As they reached a four way junction in the hallway, they stopped, pressing hard against the corner. Slowly, Alias looked around to see several beams of light swooping around in a search pattern.

"Flash and clear!" Alias hissed in a low whisper.

Pulling out a small, flat cylinder that fit comfortably in Mick's paw, he stepped around Alias, throwing the disk with as much force as possible. Alias's paws quickly snapped to his ears, covering what he knew would come next. Looking down the way they came, he averted his eyes from the blinding white flash and obnoxiously loud detonation.

Paws back to his weapon, Alias whipped around the corner, taking aim with the red dot scope Mick had modified their guns with. They had caught the mercs off guard with the flashbang as some stood dazed, while others were shielding their eyes in pain. A few of them returned fire on Alias, who whipped back around the corner, hearing the bullets whizzing by his head, and pulverizing the brick foundation.

"Flank two!" Alias yelled at Mick over the deafening explosions of gunfire. The Mercenary realized the exchanging shots with these guys would buy them the time they needed to flank both Alias and Mick. Alias decided to be a little more drastic. "Count one, two, three, go!"

"One, two, three, go!" Mick commanded, as Alias dropped his MP5 and produced his black .45. The fox sprinted across the hallway as Mick peeked around the corner aiding with cover fire. Flashes of light blinded his eyes, dust and smoke from Waverly's debris that was violently disturbed blew into his mouth and down his lungs, his ears rang with the echoing bang of bullets exploding from the ends of their barrels. He felt the air around him go frigid as lead projectiles ripped past him. Then as if one cue, his knees collapsed taking his whole body down with him, only his momentum allowed him to do a baseball-style slide across the smooth concrete floor. Taking his aim, Alias pulled back on his trigger, the hollow-tip round blowing forward with much force. One thing that was much different with his new .45 was that the force alone would knock anyone on their back. His old nines didn't have that kind of firepower.

The large caliber round drove home in the meat of the StormRaven mercenaries. Red blood gushed from their wounds to the dusty concrete floor, creating a sticky mess. As Alias slid to a stop, boot bracing himself against the adjacent wall, he fired one last round off. It sailed through the air and between the eyes of the last mercenary. The back of his head exploded, sending pieces of his skull and brain matter all over the hallway in a shower of gore.

The fox wasted no time getting back on his feet. Mick rounded the corner, gun still ready with one paw, and tossed Alias his MP5 with the other.

"I thought these guys were supposed to be good?" Alias asked, panting slightly as he reviewed his work; a menagerie of dead mercenaries.

Mick shrugged, kicking over one of the fallen foes. "What can you say? We're just too badass for-"

Both Mick and Alias ducked as the brick behind them erupted in dusty chunks of fragments. There was something about shotgun fire that made it easily identifiable. Alias felt the small shards of Waverly's foundation rip his flesh with a livid temperament. The two ran across the junction and around the corner opposite the way they had came. Alias slammed into a set of iron double doors, to his surprise opened with ease. Looking around, he realized they made it through the wards and into the admin area. Desks and filing cabinets that looked like old movie props were scattered about in various cubicles. Cobwebs and dust caked everything making it very clear most of what was before them had not been disturbed for some time.

"This way!" Mick cried out, starting to run down one of the hallways. "I remember this part!"

Knowing about a dozen trigger-happy mercs were hot on their trail, Alias didn't argue. They moved quickly, but as the mink lead them to a stairwell, Alias heard the iron doors creaking open, and bang to a stop. Spinning around on his heels, Alias saw what looked like about eight fully armed StormRaven elites taking up aim at them.

They fired, and Alias fired back, the dueling light shows on both sides causing destruction around them. Around his right shoulder, Alias felt what could only be described as being hit with the smallest bat as hard as possible. The force of the bullet slammed into him with an uncompromising might. A low cry of anger and pain escaped his lips as he felt the aching pain grow like a cancer over his shoulder.

The black fox bounced against the door frame of the stairwell, and flopped on the floor inside.

"Fuck!" Mick cried out as Alias painfully pushed himself off the ground. "Where are you hit?"

"I'm not!" Alias replied, the rage of Hell burning throughout him. "It caught the vest!" He felt his anger flair up like the start of a supernova. It was the same feeling he got when he found out Plaz Preston was going to order a hit on Jenna, or when Hets had threatened those that were close to him. He felt the anger like he felt the recoil of his weapons. It fused itself to Alias, as he knew the Shadow Player would stop at nothing to kill all of them. Images of people he knew shot through his mind; he saw Ethel with her eyes wide open in death, Mick as he had been that day at Delirium, Abby as he had left Jenny Ursprung, and Jenna's crimson blood contrasting her beautiful deep blue fur...

"Over my fucking dead body!" Alias snarled aloud, swiping Mick's MP5 from his paws. The tone in Alias's voice was enough to let Mick know not to argue as he saw the anger radiate from Alias like the light of a lighthouse. All of it, directed at the SRS force.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Alias burst from the stairwell in a dead sprint to the cubicles. The guards opened fire from a much closer distance now that they had time to advance. Alias launched himself through the air, arms extended in front of him, tucked and rolled behind one of the many sturdy metal desks. Metallic pings echoed around him as he took shelter. Waiting a few seconds, he burst from behind the desk, both MP5's ready.

The office area became the center of a small warzone, as Alias drained both clips simultaneously. Three of the security force met their end being showered with hot lead to various parts of their bodies. For the first time, the last of the mercs had to actually take cover from Alias and Mick, who was using his sidearm to lay down cover. As soon as both submachine guns clicked with empty magazines, Alias cast them aside. He sprinted to where they had taken cover, jumping up on one of the desks he launched himself into the center of the group.

Before the SRS team could even react, Alias sent his boot in a full force kick to the side of one member's knee. Alias both felt and heart the bones in his knee snap and break as he folded under his own weight. Spinning around, his paw caught the wrist of one of the mercenaries wielding a sharp combat knife, most likely a Ka-Bar. With his free hand, he grabbed a second merc pulling him forward and sending the knife under his flack jacket slicing his tender belly. As the knife sunk into his flesh, he heard the stuck guard grunt in pain as his eyes went wide in shock. Releasing the first merc he drove his elbow back into the canine's muzzle, snapping his neck with one fell swoop.

The other three mercenaries opened fire at Alias, however, the fox spun around still holding the dead canine who had been stabbed by his own teammate. His body jerked and convulsed, bullets raining over him as Alias used him for effective cannon fodder. Blood from his meat shield sprayed in a mist over his black fur, soaking him. Looking down he noticed two small M67 hand grenades dangling from the dead merc's combat vest. Acting swiftly, Alias pulled the pins on both, kicked the meat shield away from him and jumped for cover.

The guards cried out in alarm as they realized they had two live grenades at their feet, but they were too late. The asylum's lighting changed from an eerie blue, to a firely orange. Alias blew backwards due to the force of the explosion, and into a metal desk. His body slammed against the structure and more pain erupted through him. Only resting for a moment, Alias struggled to get to his feet. Looking around, he saw that all of his surroundings were misted in fine tiny red dots. The mutilated corpses of the three mercenaries lay scattered about; only there were enough solid body parts to make only one complete body.

Ears shooting up, Alias looked and saw the final merc attempting to crawl away, blood staining his uniform. However, Alias was not done. Walking over, he grabbed the Ka-Bar from the floor, stained in blood. The Mercenary bent down and grabbed the last StormRaven guard by his ankle, and dragged him kicking and screaming backwards. Where Alias had shattered his knee with a kick earlier the bastard couldn't even run. Flipping him over on his back, Alias dropped to his knees atop the guard's chest, pinning his arms under Alias's knees. Wielding the knife, the black fox raised the blade above his head, Alias thought of everything that had come to pass because of all of this. His voice left his body in the form of a war cry, laced with bloodlust, as he brought the blade down hard on the guard's unprotected neck. The sharp metal sunk with ease into his flesh as Alias struck, and struck and continued to strike.

"You tried to take everything from me!" He bellowed out as blood sprayed about him.

"Alias! Stop!"

He felt paws latch onto his arms, preventing him from bringing the blade down on the butchered guard again. Alias looked over and saw Mick, a look of concern in his eyes. "It's all good now." He explained in a calm tone, "You got them."

Almost as if he was returning to reality, Alias slid slowly off the dead guard and leaned against a cubicle. The knife fell from his trembling, blood soaked paws with a clatter to the floor. He looked at Mick, who got to his feet once more. Offering his paw, Alias clasped a hold of the mink who hoisted the fox to his feet.

"We still have a Shadow Player to find." Mick reminded The Mercenary, handing him his discarded MP5; new magazine already loaded. "Think you've got anything left to deal with him?"

Alias looked down, only he didn't feel proud like he did after most battles. He had slaughtered them; all of them. What was strange was that he didn't feel bad about it either. He didn't feel anything, except relief that this battle was over. Should he feel something?

Anger keeps you alive.

Again, his mind spoke to him as if it were another person living in his conscious.

"It's time to end this." Alias growled, his anger not directed towards Mick, but rather just escaping into the world.

Again, the pair was moving quickly up the stairwell Mick had originally led them to. The mink directed Alias to the top of the stairs where they were met with a long hallway extending in both directions. To his left, there was an ancient gurney and a set of double doors and to his right was a set of small offices.

Mick pointed to the right. "That way." He whispered, looking slightly nervous.

Hugging his weapon close to him, Alias darted on the tips of his toes to the offices. As he entered, he noticed these spaces were much different from downstairs. They were clean and nicely furnished. His eyes scanned the darkness for anything substantial, but it almost seemed as if there wasn't anyone here at all.

This was quickly disproved when Alias turned around and saw a figure standing in the doorway of a larger room. Alias jumped in his direction as he saw the figure grab the heavy steel door and attempt to slam the it shut.

Alias had taken a bullet through his vest earlier, and even though it hadn't gotten past the Kevlar, it still hurt like Hell. However, when he felt the bones in his paw contort and crush under the momentum of the steel door, he would have gladly taken about fifty shots to his Kevlar. His paw was the only thing keeping the door open as it was wedged between the door and its frame.

"Goddamn it, Mick! Get your ass over here and help me!" Alias roared in fury. The mink wasted no time joining Alias in the struggle to force the door open. Alias pushed with all his might, boots slipping on the dusty concrete, and pain like none other pulsating throughout his paw.

Through the entire struggle and straining of muscles to open the door, Alias's ears honed in on what was only whispers of words from the other side.

"God forgive me!"

Alarm like a bolt of electricity flashed through Alias as he pulled his paw from the door and grabbed Mick, throwing him to the ground.

It felt like he had run into a wall, only he was laying down on the ground. The door blew off its hinges and out into the hallway, narrowly missing Mick and Alias. Alias felt the heat lick the back of his neck before subsiding and all went quiet.

Pushing off the ground with his good paw, Alias walked into the room with easy access now that there was no door. Looking around he saw multiple small fires started from the explosion, however they posed no immediate threat. It was a panic switch, set to self detonate everything if they had been compromised, which they had. Next to the door, he saw a pitiful mess of burnt fur and flesh, still moving; barely alive.

Alias bent down next to the badly scorched raccoon. He was dead; his body just hadn't caught on to the fact yet. His death would be a long one, with much suffering involved. Perhaps, this raccoon might want to make a deal.

Reaching behind his back, Alias pulled out his .45 and released the clip so that only one round remained in the gun.

"Where's the Shadow Player?" Alias asked in a placid tone. He waited several seconds for a reply that didn't come. "You have two choices." Alias explained. "You can either tell me what I need to know, and this can all end quickly. Or you can lay there and suffer. It will be long, and slow, I promise. There's no one left here to come back for you." At this he saw the raccoon's eyes close in despair. "But I can make this painless. You won't feel a thing."

"He's... gone..." The raccoon gurgled; hardly moving his muzzle to speak the pain was so severe.

"Where'd he go?" Alias demanded.

"No... idea..." He replied, taking slow, deep breaths. "I'm the failsafe plan... supposed to blow this place... take that document with me... those mercs were...expendable..." His charred, mangled paw pointed to a manila envelope, slightly blackened by the explosion. The raccoon's body must have blocked the flames. "Please..." He heard the suffering soul beg. "Please just end this..."

Good to his word, Alias placed the pistol in the raccoon's paw, hammer pulled back. He raised the pistol just under the Racoon's jaw. Alias looked away as the final shot of the night was fired, ending the raccoon's agony.

Grabbing his pistol from the dead raccoon, Alias reloaded the clip and pulled the slide back, cocking it. Tucking the gun away, Alias plucked the folder from the ground and tore it open as best he could with a crippled paw. It was a single, photocopied map with every major city on it, including Arcadia and Palamont. Little dots peppered the map, about ten in all. Typed clearly next to each of them in courier font was the title ‘ARES'. His eyes clamped shut in a white livid anger at the seemingly useless document that could be anything, and might not even relate to Alias. What was up with him always finding these piece of shit documents? About ready to drop-kick the whole map into the fire in a rage, Alias paused noting the tiny inscription at the bottom:

Database User: R. K. Openshaw.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Alias slid the map back. He knew he was still on the right path, which was the important thing. Now, he had those bastards on the run.

He turned to Mick, busy stamping out various smaller fires, and handed him the envelope. "I've got to do something about my paw." Alias said, biting his bottom lip. "I've really fucked it up. See what you can see."

As he walked slowly back the way they came, being wary of SRS they might have missed, he stopped looking down the hallway that ended with the double doors. The black fox scowled as he stared at them. He felt the strangest compulsion to investigate what lay beyond. Creeping slowly to the double doors, Alias moved in close, pressing his ear to the door. Hearing nothing, the black fox slowly opened the door so there was a small opening. In a dark blur, he whipped the door open, aiming his pistol around the room; eyes scanning for targets.

However, he was met with a rather large, rather empty room. Much like the rest of Waverly Hill, the decades of decay were no less harsh on this place than the rest of the facility. Looking around, there wasn't much left, save for what looked like a large metal bathtub in the center. He could hear the dripping of water echo throughout the room. When this place had been an asylum, Alias could only guess at its uses. He couldn't help but wonder how many souls suffered horrible fates due to the primitive nature of psychiatry at the time.

Lowering his gun, Alias slowly strolled around the room, eyes scanning over the crumbling porcelain tile along the floor and walls. Every so often, he could hear his boots crush tiny pieces of debris, causing a loud snap or crack to echo throughout the room. As he strolled, he found his feet making their way over to the metal tub. Looking down into it, Alias could hardly see his own reflection in the dark water. What little he could see slowly swayed with the ripples the drops created, as they broke free of the faucet.

"I know what your training taught you..."

The black fox whipped around, pistol drawn and aiming wildly around the dimly lit room. Even though it had been a whisper, it had been deafeningly loud.

"Mick?" Alias called out in a normal voice. However, Alias knew what he heard wasn't Mick's voice. His keen eyes cut through the darkness, and his nose sniffed the air for something, anything, but couldn't sense that anything was there. His arms went slightly lax as he lowered his weapon once more, and looked back down at the dingy old tub.

"No one has ever seen anything like you..."

"Who's there?" Alias snarled. He didn't like being fucked with. This time he was sure he heard someone whispering. He was also sure it wasn't Mick. He strained his ears, trying to pick up on the voice once again. "Alright, asshole." Alias growled. "You don't want to fuck with me tonight! All your friends left you, so why don't you grow a set and come out here?"

"...he doesn't know.."

"...couldn't know..."

"...disobedience, defiance..."

"...can't be hindered by such emotions..."

"...because that would be defying their only purpose in life..."

Alias felt his heart race as he pivoted around on one foot. His mind went into overdrive, trying to make sense of what was going on around him. This whispering, it was everywhere and nowhere! But he heard it as plain as day!

That's when he felt it begin to grip him. It sunk it's teeth into Alias's soul like a rabid creature out for blood. He felt fear wash over him as the walls of Waverly began to grow taller and taller. His green eyes watched as the roof faded beyond view and slowly the walls began to move closer to him. As they inched their way forward, Alias could do nothing but back slowly up. His mind went into all out panic as he found the doors had also disappeared from this room. It was a trap! Alias was trapped and he couldn't get out! He was stuck at Waverly Hill, where there was no escape! He wanted to scream, he wanted to run, he wanted to try and get away, but his feet would not move. His body betrayed him and he, quite literally, became paralyzed with fear.

"...they remember nothing from before..."

"...we made sure of that..."

His paws snapped to his head, gripping at his hair; eyes clamping shut. This couldn't be real. There was no fucking way this could possibly be real. Paws pressed down hard on his skull, he tried in desperation to block out the voices that seemed to permeate through his fingers like water.

Wake the fuck up, Alias! His mind screamed as he gritted his teeth tight together. This isn't really happening... it can't be!

His breaths were coming in short gasps. It was as if the air had gotten thicker since he arrived. His lungs felt too weak to pull in the needed oxygen, causing his head to become light. As the room began to slowly spin around him, Alias felt himself losing his balance. Before he knew it, the black fox tumbled backwards, the side of the tub landing a hard blow to the base of Alias's skull.

A firework show of light exploded behind Alias's eyes, he tried to gasp for breath, but instead of the stuffy warm air, cold liquid rushed down his windpipe. The fox lost all sense of reality around him. He couldn't hear, think, speak, or even breathe. His lungs convulsed violently and burned as carbon dioxide became painfully pent up. He thrashed around, trying to get a grip on something, anything, that was around him, but he could not!

"...your training has taught you to feel like they chose you..."

"...gave you a special gift..."

In the darkness, the voice was speaking to someone and Alias recognized this voice. In his world, absent of light, air, or warmth, he could feel the voice like it was a part of him. His thrashing slowed. It was as if he didn't have the energy anymore. Pain swamped his mind, taking his focus off the fear he was feeling. However, he began to indulge in the experience. In his mind, it was transforming from pain to a beautiful numbness...

"...but in reality they cursed you..."

"...cursed you..."

"...I want you to know what you're truly capable of..."

He knew that voice! It registered in his mind as a voice he should know!

Suddenly, a new voice cut through his conscious only this one was much different from the previous one.

"This unit completed all mission objectives. Total run time was precisely two hours, thirty-three minutes, and twenty-eight seconds. Total rounds fired: three hundred seventy-two. Forty percent headshots, forty percent body shots, eighteen percent appendages, and two percent margin of error. Total percentage: ninety eight percent accuracy, two percent margin of error."

Immediately his mind registered this new voice as separate from the ones before. That's because he knew the voice! It was his! His voice? Had Alias just said that aloud? Where had that come from? He hadn't thought it, but it was his voice! Alias would have screamed aloud when the claws dung into his chest had he been able to breathe. He felt them tug savagely on his flesh, pulling him forward. He felt his body being pulled, somewhere, he wasn't quite sure. He was too weak to resist. A black fog slowly began to engulf Alias. It invaded his eyesight, blinding him from the far off specks of light, the only light he could see.

Light, sound, warmth; he exploded with sensation. He felt his body falling, then slam against something hard. Upon feeling the warm air against his fur, his immediate reaction was to breathe in. Only when he tried, his lungs rebelled and spasmed out of control. His stomach convulsed, and water erupted from his mouth, spilling out on the floor. Air rushed into his lungs, room made available with the absence of water. The black fox flipped over onto his back, pulling an extra pistol from his boot, ready to cap the motherfucker responsible for all this!

Mick jumped back so fast, he lost his balance and sat down hard on the floor. "Shit! Alias! It's me!" He cried out in shock.

Soaking wet, Alias looked around the room. Mick was backed up against the metal bathtub, the walls were their normal size, and the double doors were not only there, but were wide open. Alias panted hard, returning his breathing to normal. He could feel his whole body quaking uncontrollably. He slowly dropped the gun on the ground, creating a loud clatter. With his uninjured paw, he pushed his wet, black hair out of his eyes, and fell backwards on the floor.

"You okay, man?"

Alias looked up at Mick. Having absolutely no idea what just happened, Alias was quite terrified. The voices, there were so vivid, so real. Feeling his heartbeat returning to normal. Alias nodded in response.

"I... I tripped; hit my head." Alias lied. "Kind of freaked out when I fell."

Mick stood back up, and extended his paw, helping Alias back to his feet once again.

"I think we should get the hell out of Dodge." Mick replied. "Hell knows if there are more of the bastards running around. Besides," he continued, "this place creeps me out."

This caught Alias's attention. "Creeps you out?"

"Yeah," Mick nodded, "this room is where they interrogated me. Rather not spend too much time here, you know?" He said stepping around Alias.

Alias followed Mick to the door, turning around before he left. He gave a glance around the empty room; the tub standing there like a foreboding monolith. He wanted to explain, maybe make sense of what just happened. He wanted to explain what just happened to him to Mick. But what was he to say? He heard voices in an empty room, freaked out, backed into the tub and nearly drowned himself? Alias was sure there were answers to his questions, but there was something about this desolate, decrepit place that simply made Alias want to find them elsewhere.

"Interrogations..." Alias said aloud to the empty room, nodding. His black paw gripped the edge of the iron door before he jerked it shut with an eerie bang.