The Sound of Silence

[Albert Wesker]

Some kind of...of demon. Or vampire. Or...or something!

The captured man struggled only for a moment, sucking in a breath to ready himself to put up as much of a fight as he could -- he wasn't exactly a soldier, just a man who'd been in this town for way too damn long to exist without some fire in his blood and steel in his bones. He wasn't a warrior, by any means, but he was a fighter!

All thought of resisting or putting up an actual fight fled from him when the first blow struck home.

He pushed away, freeing himself from the vice-like grip on his shoulder, and whirled around to face his attacker, only to be met with a gloved hand crashing into his chin. The empty palm hit with with a solid smack and threw his head backward, and his body snapped forward again only a split second later as a knee lodged itself in his gut with what had to be the force of a cannonball. He wheezed out all the breath he'd caught, staggering back with hands curled around his gut.

Stars danced across his vision as an elbow slammed into his ear, and thunder rumbled in his head in tune with the deafening crash from overhead as an open palm grasped the back of his head. His world went white as his face was driven into the ground, only the dull crunch of impact echoing in his head.

Dizzy, and barely aware of what had just happened, he just groaned as fingers grasped the soaking wet collar of his jacket, and hauled him up off the ground. "Now, then...as I said." The voice was smooth, despite the vicious assault its owner had just doled out. "...I wish to have a word with you."

As he tried to draw enough breath to manage a response, a gloved hand closed around his throat, choking the airflow off. "You won't need to say anything. I never said this would be a conversation. You, my friend..." The man in black hauled his prey further up, releasing the back of his jacket and simply tightening the grip on the poor soul's neck. "...don't need to worry. You'll tell me everything I want to know."

As he hung there, hands scrabbling and grabbing at the iron grip around his throat, the man gurgled breathlessly. Half-formed grunts and words, a mangled attempt to ask for mercy or curse at his attacker, all spewed forth into the rain.

But they slowly died off, growing quieter as even his last few gasps of air were spent. He renewed his struggles and effort, kicking and clawing, silently screaming and thrashing. His mind screamed for air...!

...then it screamed for a different reason. Pain.

"You're going to tell me everything you know...about Oswell E. Spencer. His associates. And Silent Hill."

It spread out from his neck. Little lines, curling and slicing down. Across his torso, then to his limbs. Up his neck, over his face and around his head. Hair-thin strands of molten agony, growing worse and worse, spreading and wrapping further and further around him. His eyes went wide, bulging as his ground his teeth. One good breath, so he could clear his foggy mind and land a clear blow...!

Then he saw the colors. Shimmering and sparkling. A white glow, masked by the dark and the rain, and all the colors of the rainbow. Faintly shining, shimmering, rippling across the ground and nearby walls. It grew more pronounced and clear, and worst of all, the pain started to lessen. It went from unbearable agony, trailing off into...into nothing.

There was...there was...

Light. Colors. Lightning...all white.

What was...?


Albert Wesker strode slowly out of the alley, hand slowly curling into a fist around a last few dregs of omnilium. "Information never came quite so easily, before..." he mused, lifting both hands to adjust his long coat. "I suppose I really should thank you, Omni."

Beginning work toward 'A Gate in the Moors' quest.
Post Word Count: 660 // Total Word Count: 660
Post Character Count: 3,674 // Total Character Count: 3,674