Wow. Fifteen chapters already. This is surely the most I've ever written and posted for a single story. Trust me, I'm not planning on quitting anytime soon, and I do have pretty big plans about this one. I hope we'll get there sooner rather than later, but I don't particularily feel like rushing the chapters. Things will take time, but they will come around. I'm confident!
He'd lost track of time. He didn't know how long it had been since the sun rose over the horizon. He didn't know how long or how far he'd walked. How many people he might've terrified while walking past, or how many infected he'd pushed to the ground to allow him free passing. He'd lost count of how many steps he'd taken and how many times he'd turned around the corner of the block. Neither did he care about any of these things. The burning rage he'd previously felt was extinguished, and the steam that followed had burned out. With no anger left to use and no bloodlust left to still, he'd resorted to walking. It didn't matter where, he just did. He did because there was nothing entertaining left to do.
He didn't anymore look where he was going. He didn't see the terrified faces of men and women that dragged their children by their wrists to make sure they didn't fall behind. He didn't hear their panicked cries or the constant moaning and growling from the infected around him. He'd stopped caring about them, just as they'd stopped caring about him. Neither did he sense the heaviness of the air around him, or how it cleared as he walked on through the streets.
Sand in a desert. An exhaustion he couldn't find a reason for had filled his being, numbing his senses. What remained, though faint, was the knowledge of a smell seemingly coming from all around him. The reason for his outburst had faded from his memory, just like the need to get revenge for whatever he'd previously needed to get revenge for. He knew that there was. Why, how, when and where wasn't anymore important. Thoughts and emotions had faded into a blur, melting together with all that was his current reality. Not important.
The smell. Stronger there. Fading. Turn.
Voices whispering. Screams echoing. People dying. Voices. Faces. Pain. Death. Corruption.
The smell... Peace. Quiet. Friendly.
Alex . . . .
He blinked. Sounds and smells whipped his senses. Awareness flowed into his mind, reigniting the light as memories of a recent past was awakened. A single name; Rebecca. More memories and a flurry of images. He remembered.
For hours upon hours, he'd killed, killed and killed again for no other reason than to kill. All the death, fear and pain was contained within his mind, screaming to be heard, begging to be freed. The chaos was worse than anything he'd felt. Pain whipped his temples as the voices increased in both strength and energy. Just as he thought his head would explode, everything suddenly vanished. All gone, as if they'd never been there at all.
Without the visions flashing past his retinas, he could now see the world clearly again. Alex stopped dead in his tracks as his ice blue eyes met a pair of steely gray. She was standing just a few meters away, her gray eyes wide. The black-haired girl was looking at him like he'd grown a spiked tail, and he looked back as if she were a creature from his nightmares. A single word then passed through his mind.
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A New ManhattanFanfiction
Alex Mercer, amnesiac, is trying to find out what happened to him and what he has become since waking up in a morgue. Desmond Miles, suffering from post traumatic stress, needs to get over his fears in order to save the world. Will they find streng...