Dying Light: The Descent

A personal fanfiction blog based on the game, Dying Light and Dying Light: The Following. More details in my author's note below. Drop an ask if you have any questions!

[dlthedescent]

I've revamped the Descent's cover from 2023 with some improvement and changes.

Original

[dlthedescent]

THIRTY-TWO: BURIED TRUTHS

After everything Crane had heard up to this point, it was still unbelievable.

A message.

The Runners received a message from him.

When? How? What…even was this?

It shouldn’t have been possible.

Ok. Think, Kyle. Somewhere in those missing months…he had found a radio. Found the Tower’s channel and tried to call home.

God, that opened up more questions. Could an infected monster even know how to use a radio?

Minor issue out of everything else, but that still irked him all the same. Everything about what he’s become found new ways to disturb him. Because he could think again.

That also brought up a horrible thought. His feral past had planned to go back to the Tower.

Had Jack not found him in Scanderoon and taken that risk with her blood perk on him…who knew what would…

Crane pushed that hypothesis out immediately. Forget it. Either way, this message had reached people who believed it was from him. And it had sent Brecken and the Runners towards the Countryside looking for a dead man.

His stunned eyes wavered up to the golden-covered horizon, before ending on the Viaduct ahead.

The way to the Countryside was there.

All the more he didn’t want to go.

That place had taken enough from him already. Even if there was still anybody left alive, he pretty much guessed that they could have shared the same fate as he and Ercan did.

There was also the possibility that the message wasn’t from Crane.

He couldn’t rule out that another Day Hunter could be behind it. After everything he’d seen, even himself, anything was just possible.

They weren’t completely mindless. They could be ‘human’. They could plan, deceive and bait.

It could be possible someone who knew Crane sent that message to the Runners.

And they tried to lure them to the Countryside.

He made up his mind.

He’d get to the bottom of this mystery, even if it meant unraveling those lost memories of his.

This was personal now.

Crane wheeled on his heel and ran down the same route Brecken and Jack did, all the way to the first building’s rooftop. He wasn’t sure how he’d go about getting any lead; he wasn’t Crane anymore.

But that was nothing new. It was as if he was back on the first day of Harran. Start from scratch and get his intel the hard way.

Only now was the added difficulty that one slipup could turn every survivor around him against him.

Crane was alone this time. No wingmate to pull him out if someone found him funny.

That was fine with him. He’d always worked alone before he met Jack.

“When did you get this message?”

However, Jack beat him to the punch.

Crane slowed down immediately at the sight of the Breckens with some of the Runners gathered around on the rooftop. And right away, she was asking the questions he wanted to ask.

He sighed deeply. Another problem if he wasn’t careful: Jack herself.

She was ten times more lethal than anyone learning the truth under this human disguise. All because she was far too good at her job.

Jack was never one to abandon a trail once she had one. And that stubbornness was what would be Crane’s undoing, especially since she accepted the request from her own cousin to find a friend that should have stayed dead months ago.

He’d been right beside her the entire time; the Freakazoid she crazily partnered with since Scanderoon. And it would be a matter of time before she’d figure out who he was.

So of course, their paths were bound to cross over, starting with that damn message. Which meant that anything he did or the question he asked, Jack would take note.

Was it just bad luck? Or Fate giving him the middle finger again?

Still, this could work in his favor.

“A few weeks ago,” Ayo answered first, glancing at the other Runners. Unanimously, they agreed on the timeframe with nods. “Just before the rainy season started.”

A few weeks ago was around the time he first met Jack, Crane thought to himself. So the timeframe would match.

If Crane had sent that message.

“Do you remember what he said?”

“Just that he’d find his way back to the Tower. He sounded pretty lost.”

Crane furrowed his brow, raking his brain to remember anything. Everyone seemed so convinced it was from him.

And yes, that would be something he’d say.

He was absolutely determined to return to the Tower after everything that happened at the dam. He had the cure in his hands. Or so he believed that the vials would have helped then.

But that last part. He sounded lost?

Was it really him?

“And you are certain it was him?” Jack ironically asked.

“Well…” The question caught Ayo by surprise, that he glanced over at the others. But they shared the same expression as he did.

They weren’t entirely sure.

“The transmission was buried under so much static, we could barely make anything out of it,” Ayo admitted.

“There was no way it couldn’t be Crane!” another Runner blurted out. “The channel’s only used by us Runners.”

“That was enough for you to believe it was him.” Jack pondered over that small detail.

So his own theory that someone else had done this was out the window, Crane thought to himself. He had kept a low profile during his time in the Countryside, with nothing that led back to the Slums.

Then the other possibility that it had been him all along…wasn't a possibility anymore.

“We had no reason to,” the Runner continued. “Kristov was on radio duty that day and called us over when it was happening.”

Another name Crane couldn’t believe hearing. But he should have expected.

“Kristov is?”

“One of the people Crane helped get out and brought over to the Tower.” This time Brecken stepped in to answer Jack’s question. “He’s been with us since.”

“Kristov!” the Runner hollered.

Crane’s stomach sank as he watched one young man hurry over to the group.

Just like Ayo, Brecken and everyone else, the kid had changed too. Crane should have been used to that by now, but the differences in just a few months hit him harder than he had anticipated.

He couldn’t call Kristov a kid anymore.

What was more was the recognizable gear on Kristov. Radio, harness, and even a combat knife he shouldn’t even be using.

He specifically told Kristov to quit being a Runner. And here he was, as one again.

“What’s up?” the young man uttered.

“I heard you were the first one to hear Crane’s transmission,” Jack got right into business, receiving a wary stare from him. “Mind giving me more details, lad?”

“Sorry. Who are you?” Kristov actually gave her a bit of a lip.

“Oh, yes. Jack Brecken,” Jack droned.

Immediately, the young man’s eyes shot wide. And his shocked gaze quickly snapped to Brecken standing right beside her.

His face; he had thousands of questions.

Jack gave him no chance of a break. “You must have heard me before. Used to go by the Wild Dog years ago.”

Kristov had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Youngsters these days. But she didn’t brood over it.

“Besides that, I’m just a simple cousin of Harris right here.”

“She’s your cousin?! You have a cousin?!” Kristov hollered. At Brecken.

“Why…is that so hard to believe?” Brecken grumbled.

“I mean, we’ve never heard anything about you till now.”

Crane felt much the same as the other Runners. Never had Brecken mentioned anything else beyond his work one time, let alone having a cousin in the same city. It came completely out of left field for everyone!

Then again, Crane hadn’t exactly shared anything about himself either, so he wasn’t in a position to judge.

“Harris has always been pretty private with his personal life. You can’t really blame him for that,” Jack chimed in.

“And whose fault do you think that was?” Brecken muttered under his breath. “Miss ‘Mad Jack’ herself, can’t stay out of the bloody spotlight.”

So even her own cousin was used to the bullshit Jack brought along. Exhaustingly.

Good. Now Crane didn’t feel so alone in that regard.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Jack flashed her wide grin back at Brecken without a care, before turning her focus back to Kristov. “Now. Crane’s message.”

“What about it?” the kid asked. “It was from Crane. And he needed help. Short and simple.”

Crane grimaced under his scarf. He needed help? Was Kristov sure he heard correctly?

“You’re very confident it was him,” Jack pressed just as Crane would have done. But without her chirpy tone.

“Because he said his name. What are you getting at?”

“With everything happening around us, details can easily get muddled. Yesterday. A week ago. Three weeks.”

“Jack,” Brecken started with a warning but soft tone. He may see where she was going with this, but for some of the Runners and Kristov, they could take it the other way around.

She continued, regardless of the few glares or Brecken’s cautionary glance. “I just want a clear picture of what happened that day. You never know. You might have missed something crucial.”

Kristov frowned. “Brecken, what is she talking about?”

Brecken was about to answer, but his stern gaze quickly trailed off to the open access door.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

Crane had only noticed the three new faces that had emerged through that door. Same for Jack. Just normal civilians who had lived in the Heights for years and then a few months in this outbreak.

One stood at the front of the three. And he looked like someone who had spent the whole morning going over the damages and trying to restore order in this Safe Zone.

“I take he’s in charge of this place,” Jack whispered to Brecken.

“All three make the calls together,” he replied quietly. “Selim’s usually the one who does the talking.”

“So the homeowners’ committee.”

“Trust me. I’d rather be dealing with rent disputes than this lot,” Brecken then made his way toward the three leaders, bracing for the worst.

Already, the body language in the two behind Selim told Brecken they had a lot to say.

So of course, their paths were bound to cross over, starting with that damn message. Which meant that anything he did or the question he asked, Jack would take note.

Was it just bad luck? Or Fate giving him the middle finger again?

Still, this could work in his favor.

“A few weeks ago,” Ayo answered first, glancing at the other Runners. Unanimously, they agreed on the timeframe with nods. “Just before the rainy season started.”

A few weeks ago was around the time he first met Jack, Crane thought to himself. So the timeframe would match.

If Crane had sent that message.

“Do you remember what he said?”

“Just that he’d find his way back to the Tower. He sounded pretty lost.”

Crane furrowed his brow, raking his brain to remember anything. Everyone seemed so convinced it was from him.

And yes, that would be something he’d say.

He was absolutely determined to return to the Tower after everything that happened at the dam. He had the cure in his hands. Or so he believed that the vials would have helped then.

But that last part. He sounded lost?

Was it really him?

“And you are certain it was him?” Jack ironically asked.

“Well…” The question caught Ayo by surprise, that he glanced over at the others. But they shared the same expression as he did.

They weren’t entirely sure.

“The transmission was buried under so much static, we could barely make anything out of it,” Ayo admitted.

“There was no way it couldn’t be Crane!” another Runner blurted out. “The channel’s only used by us Runners.”

“That was enough for you to believe it was him.” Jack pondered over that small detail.

So his own theory that someone else had done this was out the window, Crane thought to himself. He had kept a low profile during his time in the Countryside, with nothing that led back to the Slums.

Then the other possibility that it had been him all along…wasn't a possibility anymore.

“We had no reason to,” the Runner continued. “Kristov was on radio duty that day and called us over when it was happening.”

Another name Crane couldn’t believe hearing. But he should have expected.

“Kristov is?”

“One of the people Crane helped get out and brought over to the Tower.” This time Brecken stepped in to answer Jack’s question. “He’s been with us since.”

“Kristov!” the Runner hollered.

Crane’s stomach sank as he watched one young man hurry over to the group.

Just like Ayo, Brecken and everyone else, the kid had changed too. Crane should have been used to that by now, but the differences in just a few months hit him harder than he had anticipated.

He couldn’t call Kristov a kid anymore.

What was more was the recognizable gear on Kristov. Radio, harness, and even a combat knife he shouldn’t even be using.

He specifically told Kristov to quit being a Runner. And here he was, as one again.

“What’s up?” the young man uttered.

“I heard you were the first one to hear Crane’s transmission,” Jack got right into business, receiving a wary stare from him. “Mind giving me more details, lad?”

“Sorry. Who are you?” Kristov actually gave her a bit of a lip.

“Oh, yes. Jack Brecken,” Jack droned.

Immediately, the young man’s eyes shot wide. And his shocked gaze quickly snapped to Brecken standing right beside her.

His face; he had thousands of questions.

Jack gave him no chance of a break. “You must have heard me before. Used to go by the Wild Dog years ago.”

Kristov had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Youngsters these days. But she didn’t brood over it.

“Besides that, I’m just a simple cousin of Harris right here.”

“She’s your cousin?! You have a cousin?!” Kristov hollered. At Brecken.

“Why…is that so hard to believe?” Brecken grumbled.

“I mean, we’ve never heard anything about you till now.”

Crane felt much the same as the other Runners. Never had Brecken mentioned anything else beyond his work one time, let alone having a cousin in the same city. It came completely out of left field for everyone!

Then again, Crane hadn’t exactly shared anything about himself either, so he wasn’t in a position to judge.

“Harris has always been pretty private with his personal life. You can’t really blame him for that,” Jack chimed in.

“And whose fault do you think that was?” Brecken muttered under his breath. “Miss ‘Mad Jack’ herself, can’t stay out of the bloody spotlight.”

So even her own cousin was used to the bullshit Jack brought along. Exhaustingly.

Good. Now Crane didn’t feel so alone in that regard.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Jack flashed her wide grin back at Brecken without a care, before turning her focus back to Kristov. “Now. Crane’s message.”

“What about it?” the kid asked. “It was from Crane. And he needed help. Short and simple.”

Crane grimaced under his scarf. He needed help? Was Kristov sure he heard correctly?

“You’re very confident it was him,” Jack pressed just as Crane would have done. But without her chirpy tone.

“Because he said his name. What are you getting at?”

“With everything happening around us, details can easily get muddled. Yesterday. A week ago. Three weeks.”

“Jack,” Brecken started with a warning but soft tone. He may see where she was going with this, but for some of the Runners and Kristov, they could take it the other way around.

She continued, regardless of the few glares or Brecken’s cautionary glance. “I just want a clear picture of what happened that day. You never know. You might have missed something crucial.”

Kristov frowned. “Brecken, what is she talking about?”

Brecken was about to answer, but his stern gaze quickly trailed off to the open access door.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

Crane had only noticed the three new faces that had emerged through that door. Same for Jack. Just normal civilians who had lived in the Heights for years and then a few months in this outbreak.

One stood at the front of the three. And he looked like someone who had spent the whole morning going over the damages and trying to restore order in this Safe Zone.

“I take he’s in charge of this place,” Jack whispered to Brecken.

“All three make the calls together,” he replied quietly. “Selim’s usually the one who does the talking.”

“So the homeowners’ committee.”

“Trust me. I’d rather be dealing with rent disputes than this lot,” Brecken then made his way toward the three leaders, bracing for the worst.

Already, the body language in the two behind Selim told Brecken they had a lot to say.

So of course, their paths were bound to cross over, starting with that damn message. Which meant that anything he did or the question he asked, Jack would take note.

Was it just bad luck? Or Fate giving him the middle finger again?

Still, this could work in his favor.

“A few weeks ago,” Ayo answered first, glancing at the other Runners. Unanimously, they agreed on the timeframe with nods. “Just before the rainy season started.”

A few weeks ago was around the time he first met Jack, Crane thought to himself. So the timeframe would match.

If Crane had sent that message.

“Do you remember what he said?”

“Just that he’d find his way back to the Tower. He sounded pretty lost.”

Crane furrowed his brow, raking his brain to remember anything. Everyone seemed so convinced it was from him.

And yes, that would be something he’d say.

He was absolutely determined to return to the Tower after everything that happened at the dam. He had the cure in his hands. Or so he believed that the vials would have helped then.

But that last part. He sounded lost?

Was it really him?

“And you are certain it was him?” Jack ironically asked.

“Well…” The question caught Ayo by surprise, that he glanced over at the others. But they shared the same expression as he did.

They weren’t entirely sure.

“The transmission was buried under so much static, we could barely make anything out of it,” Ayo admitted.

“There was no way it couldn’t be Crane!” another Runner blurted out. “The channel’s only used by us Runners.”

“That was enough for you to believe it was him.” Jack pondered over that small detail.

So his own theory that someone else had done this was out the window, Crane thought to himself. He had kept a low profile during his time in the Countryside, with nothing that led back to the Slums.

Then the other possibility that it had been him all along…wasn't a possibility anymore.

“We had no reason to,” the Runner continued. “Kristov was on radio duty that day and called us over when it was happening.”

Another name Crane couldn’t believe hearing. But he should have expected.

“Kristov is?”

“One of the people Crane helped get out and brought over to the Tower.” This time Brecken stepped in to answer Jack’s question. “He’s been with us since.”

“Kristov!” the Runner hollered.

Crane’s stomach sank as he watched one young man hurry over to the group.

Just like Ayo, Brecken and everyone else, the kid had changed too. Crane should have been used to that by now, but the differences in just a few months hit him harder than he had anticipated.

He couldn’t call Kristov a kid anymore.

What was more was the recognizable gear on Kristov. Radio, harness, and even a combat knife he shouldn’t even be using.

He specifically told Kristov to quit being a Runner. And here he was, as one again.

“What’s up?” the young man uttered.

“I heard you were the first one to hear Crane’s transmission,” Jack got right into business, receiving a wary stare from him. “Mind giving me more details, lad?”

“Sorry. Who are you?” Kristov actually gave her a bit of a lip.

“Oh, yes. Jack Brecken,” Jack droned.

Immediately, the young man’s eyes shot wide. And his shocked gaze quickly snapped to Brecken standing right beside her.

His face; he had thousands of questions.

Jack gave him no chance of a break. “You must have heard me before. Used to go by the Wild Dog years ago.”

Kristov had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Youngsters these days. But she didn’t brood over it.

“Besides that, I’m just a simple cousin of Harris right here.”

“She’s your cousin?! You have a cousin?!” Kristov hollered. At Brecken.

“Why…is that so hard to believe?” Brecken grumbled.

“I mean, we’ve never heard anything about you till now.”

Crane felt much the same as the other Runners. Never had Brecken mentioned anything else beyond his work one time, let alone having a cousin in the same city. It came completely out of left field for everyone!

Then again, Crane hadn’t exactly shared anything about himself either, so he wasn’t in a position to judge.

“Harris has always been pretty private with his personal life. You can’t really blame him for that,” Jack chimed in.

“And whose fault do you think that was?” Brecken muttered under his breath. “Miss ‘Mad Jack’ herself, can’t stay out of the bloody spotlight.”

So even her own cousin was used to the bullshit Jack brought along. Exhaustingly.

Good. Now Crane didn’t feel so alone in that regard.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Jack flashed her wide grin back at Brecken without a care, before turning her focus back to Kristov. “Now. Crane’s message.”

“What about it?” the kid asked. “It was from Crane. And he needed help. Short and simple.”

Crane grimaced under his scarf. He needed help? Was Kristov sure he heard correctly?

“You’re very confident it was him,” Jack pressed just as Crane would have done. But without her chirpy tone.

“Because he said his name. What are you getting at?”

“With everything happening around us, details can easily get muddled. Yesterday. A week ago. Three weeks.”

“Jack,” Brecken started with a warning but soft tone. He may see where she was going with this, but for some of the Runners and Kristov, they could take it the other way around.

She continued, regardless of the few glares or Brecken’s cautionary glance. “I just want a clear picture of what happened that day. You never know. You might have missed something crucial.”

Kristov frowned. “Brecken, what is she talking about?”

Brecken was about to answer, but his stern gaze quickly trailed off to the open access door.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

Crane had only noticed the three new faces that had emerged through that door. Same for Jack. Just normal civilians who had lived in the Heights for years and then a few months in this outbreak.

One stood at the front of the three. And he looked like someone who had spent the whole morning going over the damages and trying to restore order in this Safe Zone.

“I take he’s in charge of this place,” Jack whispered to Brecken.

“All three make the calls together,” he replied quietly. “Selim’s usually the one who does the talking.”

“So the homeowners’ committee.”

“Trust me. I’d rather be dealing with rent disputes than this lot,” Brecken then made his way toward the three leaders, bracing for the worst.

Already, the body language in the two behind Selim told Brecken they had a lot to say.

Story continues on at these links: FFN and AO3.

[6mumuko]

wild jungle

[iceagebaby]

it is time for my yearly re-read for Dying Light: The Descent, @dlthedescent, and finally have i decided to stop being a mere lurker (yes. i am very ashamed). anyways, The Mad Jack and Crane

[dlthedescent]

OMG THIS IS INCREDIBLE! Thank you so much! I GOT NO WORDS BUT THESE ARE BEAUTIFUL!

Moreover, thank you so much for enjoying the Descent! And Mad Jack too (her damn smug smile! YUP that's my girl!)! I wish I could say more (GOD LOOK AT THESE WORKS! EVERYONE LOOK!) and I'm very grateful for both the fanart and you loving the fanfic! I'm gonna keep at making the best (and more suffering for Crane) out of this fic, knowing how much love this story gets from you and everyone alike!

[hija-ck]

they’re judging u for ur shitty parkour skills

[dlthedescent]

THIRTY-ONE: BROKEN AND MENDING

The red glow of the flare arched high into the black sky. At its apex, it hovered for a breath and sank down to the Heights below.

This part of the Market Town was but another skeletal frame of what once was, bathed in red streaks. Stores gutted, shreds of awnings and tarps drifting in the night wind like banners left behind.

Broken carts and vehicles cluttered yet another few narrow lands, left to the infected to inhabit them.

The now dimming red beacon and the noises cracking in the distance — gunfire, human screams and fire — pulled the more excited ones like a tide. Their shrieks echoed through the district as they sprinted to the lure, to their food.

Meanwhile, the sluggish ones lingered back, hugging around the narrow lanes and alcoves, head lifting jerkily at every sound. Staggering around aimlessly.

Some could spot the two Runners rushing across the rooftops; one brightly orange prey and one dimly lit predator. One enticing and the other antagonistic to the infected below.

It was an obstacle course of waiting teeth.

The first stretch of rooftops and flat canopies was jagged with broken tiles and sagging beams, every surface changed by time. They vaulted through the pitch darkness, only illuminated by Jack’s flashlight, as they scrambled from balcony to balcony.

And dawn was still a way to go.

It didn’t matter if the Market Town came alive or not. Getting to the Heights was the Runners’ goal now.

But the deeper they ran across the roofs, the further Jack noticed the distance between her and Freakazoid. Each jump they took widened the gap, and her stomach twisted at the thought of losing him in the dark.

He did say he was on the running track.

In fact, he was always tremendously faster at night than in day. And usually, she could catch up with the ascender. But the rooftops offered no footholds for her to work around.

Jack held in another worry she had only thought of now; she, a human, was out at night with the Violatiles around. There was never a time when she would leave a Safe Zone in the evenings of her own accord.

It was only because of Freakazoid. Parkouring with a sentient infected actually made the streets feel less terrifying for her. Even more when their work had to spill past curfew.

Now, her borrowed courage unraveled.

She pressed down on her fear and focused on pushing after him, getting to the Heights. Psyching her mind to take this as a ‘challenge’, refusing to fall behind.

Jack could handle any danger on the way there. As long as Freakazoid reached the Heights before her, then it was good. Help those survivors out.

All that mattered to her was that he didn’t stop. She’d catch up eventually!

If only she knew how bad an idea that was.

Crane surged ahead. He had to get to the Heights. Don’t stop. They need help!

If I don’t make it, they’ll die.

Those thoughts were there about ten seconds ago. He didn’t realize some whispers were sneaking into his head.

The pull was there that he thought he put all of his focus into the destination to block out the whispers. But that focus warped and funneled into a single point without him knowing. The kind of familiar instinct to go faster, close in and feed.

Because he was too focused on getting there, where the prey was.

It was backfiring, and Crane barely noticed.

He stopped noticing the rooftops under him. Didn’t notice he was now shoving the hissing infected in his way. Like bulldozing through the queue in order to reach the canteen’s counter.

Not even the sound of Jack’s shoes scuffling further behind could reach him-

Jack!

It was like a wake-up. Out of all the noises around him, he couldn’t hear her. And that realization quickly pulled at his reins inside his skull.

She’s out here with me!

He searched for that flash of red in the darkness. The shine of her flashlight. And that abnormal orange highlighting of a prey.

She was running towards him, five roofs away from him.

A sudden snap of tension cut through the night.

Coming towards Jack.

It snaked into her shrunken cone of vision, almost forcing her into a halt — instinct telling her something was coming at her! And it wouldn’t stop! 

Before she knew it, it wrapped around her stomach.

To any Runner, the first thought would be a Night Hunter, ready to devour them!

“God - AHHHHH!” Jack knew better.

Freakazoid had fired his tendrils at her again.

She hated them!

And her arms clenched on them instinctively for dear life while she didn’t feel the ground beneath her feet. Swooshed forward like a dart. Fear, anger and disbelief mingled in her chest.

It felt like being on one of those attraction rides that pulled you up. Only in an almost vertical arc.

“Got you!”

The tendrils recoiled back into his open slit arm while he quickly caught her in his arms and tossed her lightly onto her feet, back into the sprint.

“Keep moving!” he muttered.

Didn’t need to tell her twice but again! 

Jack bit down any complaint or curses she had at him, swallowing in her pride. 

Thanks to Freakazoid’s thankful boost, it had sent her a few meters ahead, and for a heartbeat, she stumbled, then caught herself. Back to sprinting alongside Freakazoid. 

They couldn’t afford to slow down over a little scare. 

The rooftops soon ran out.

Down below was a collapsed plaza and the wide street cutting through the Market Town like a raging river. 

Ahead, the Heights stood, ringed with firelight and gun flashes.

The infected swarmed around the fences, scrambling for the way in, only to have bullets drilled into their skulls and the standing UV lamps directed at them like a child with a magnifying glass over ants.

The gates were bashed down but in the way were the hornets’ vehicles, cramped in so that no Biters could come in but survivors couldn’t come out.

Ahead, the Heights rose at last. A full block away, its stacked balconies bristled with barricades, and the glow of UV lamps cut sharp against the black sky. It stood like a besieged lighthouse, ringed with firelight and gun flashes.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Hey! There’s something comin-”

THUD!

A stranger vaulting over one of the keeps sprung at the first bandit, claws out. He caught his head as though snatching a ball, talons biting into the back of his skull. And it went by so fast, Crane yanking the thug forward into the rising piston of his knee.

CRACK!

The crack was wet and ugly, nose caved, teeth burst loose. The body folded limply to the asphalt before the other two bandits at the gate could do…anything.

“Shit- Ack!”

The swing of the assault rifle never lined up at Freakazoid, when the brunette springboarded over the jeep and angled a sharp kick to the gunner’s legs. Timbered down, with Jack on top.

Using the butt of his own weapon to smash into his temple.

BAM!

Jack ditched the rifle aside as she climbed up on her feet, walking alongside Freakazoid towards the last one in their way.

“Ah…Ahhh!” 

The third guard faltered, eyes darting between his bleeding crew and the two Runners approaching him. It wasn’t worth it anymore! He turned and bolted for the streets.

Into the horde, hoping to find safety that he’d never get within the few minutes of darkness.

Crane’s icy blue gaze swept from the ground up. Every floor was filled with frightened and scrambling orange-lit humans behind walls but a large crowd clashed on the rooftop. 

That was where the main action was held.

“Go! I’ll cover the stairs!” Jack hollered.

Freakazoid nodded and bolted through the parking lot. One tendril swing and up the balconies he shot like a bouncing bullet, claws digging into the walls.

Terrifying sight. Jack hurried to the Heights’ main door.

The first flight of stairs was already a pain on its own. The survivors had piled furniture up the steps, roped to the railings, the only way up was through the open stairwell gap above. 

Jack kicked off a cupboard and gripped on the edge to pull herself up.

Enough to peek at the next floor above. 

The hallway stretched narrow, choked with cowering shadows. Any residents Rais’ men corralled were huddled in a cluster against the wall. Their frightened, tired and angry faces flickered under lamps.

It was a pointless fight to begin with, against brutes like them. 

“Quiet down!”

Three bandits, two with guns. One irritatedly swept his barrel from face to face.

“We don’t want wasting our bullets if we have to,” the thug threatened.

The one with a machete sauntered around the crowd, before he lazed against the stairwell. Cocking his chin at the weaklings.

“This will be all over before you know it.”

Before him, all of their eyes stretched wide, filled with shock. They were already that scared with that one-liner. 

The bandit chuckled. Unaware that a wild dog had climbed over the railing.

Jack surged up in a single heave, wrapping her limbs around his body like a clamp and letting gravity take them both down. 

THUD!

“Ugh-!” 

The pair crashed hard against the floorboards, knocking a few things around. With her weight pinned on him and his weapon clattering out of his hand, she dug her knee down on his back to stop him from getting up.

“Shit!” In a split second, the rifles swung towards the surprise intruder. But in a hurry, one of the gunners barked a warning at the residents.

“Don’t move!” He kept the barrel leveled at them, finger tight on the trigger.

“Get off him!” the other demanded.

“You really pick a bad night to be raiding a Safe Zone,” Jack droned, pressing her knee further down on his spine and pulling his arm. 

He let out a strangled cry, his free hand scraping at the floor.

“Call off your mates and you might leave with your legs intact.”

“W-We’re just here for Brecken, ok?!”

Jack flinched. The name struck like a fist to her gut, the gripping dread from earlier sneaking back in.

Brecken?

“What did you say?”

“N-New boss asked for someone named Jack Brecken. So we figured…why not the guy from the Tower!”

“Last chance! Get off him!” his friend demanded, another step forward.

If he had to beat her down while she was distracted, so be it.

She was too much in her thoughts, after all. Jack remembered what Duman said yesterday.

“...Alexander’s after you, Jack.”

The dread swelled into fury.

“He’s opened his doors to those dogs now. Word is he’s got them to keep their eyes peeled for you.”

These mongrels went after her cousin to get to her.

Alexander’s after her family…

“Once we get him talking, we can find this chick and hand her over to him-”

CRACK!

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The scream was ear-piercing. On the floor, the bandit curled up into a ball, clutching his dislocated shoulder. Wailing in excruciating pain as he dragged himself across the floor.

Death would have been better than this. 

And it was horrible to the others. The proud men of Rais, no strangers to cruelty, still reeled at the sight of one of their own brought so low by a woman.

The brunette shot up onto her feet, almost playful in her steps as she walked over the crying bandit.

“Well, you’ve found her.”

Fury washed over the Wild Dog’s face, wide grin. Ready to clamp her teeth on all of them.

Valchos dared to send goons after Harris!

And that was something she could never forgive.

“Name’s Jack Brecken. But you might know me by another name.”

Now both rifles were pointed dead at her. Almost fearing she’d do something stupid if they didn’t.

Fear?

The two men hadn’t felt like this since the very beginning. They’ve witnessed all sorts of cruelty. Been actors themselves into the slaughter under Rais’ command. 

But watching some random woman dislocate his arm like that? And look that crazy?

Like she was prepared to face death.

“I was bloody notorious in the ring.”

She raised her hand up at a large cloth — she had noticed this draping over the railings on the next floor. It was a slow reach, prompting the barrels to tighten on her.

But the triggers weren’t pulled on the crazy woman.

“THEY CALL ME MAD JACK FOR A REASON!” she roared.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Story continues on at these links: FFN and AO3.

[twowhalesinatrenchcoat]

replaying dying light make me feel like this

no I dont want to go???? leave me alone??

[dlthedescent]

THE ASCENT - TWO: WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE

“These friends of yours… Are they also Pilgrims like you?”

“Not really. They call themselves Pioneers. Move around as one big group together,” Aiden explained. “Riskier when you’re out in the Wilderness but they’ve somehow made it work for years.”

“And you can trust these people…why?”

“Spike. He knew their leader for a long time, and, well, she owed him a favor… You have my word, Crane. They can help us get out of the valley.”

“Through unorthodox ways.”

“Ethan’s words. Not mine. He’s the one leading this ‘extraction team’ of his.”

“You don’t get along with him, do you?” Olivia asked, catching the faint edge in his tone.

Aiden huffed. “He can be a pain in the ass, yeah... Just thought you should know what you’re walking into before we meet them.”

“Sounds like a circus of trainwrecks,” Crane added dryly.

“You don’t know the half of it…”

The road trip did indeed take around two hours, swaying down the forgotten road into the unknown and through the woods until the road cut along the cliffside and open sky above. The Ascent drew in around said road, standing as towering walls ahead.

The sound of water grinding somewhere ahead broke the eerie chorus of nature and infected gurgling, announcing to the SERPENS’ passengers they’d reach the dam soon.

“There it is,” Olivia said quietly, peering out the window.

Looming over them was the Beaver Creek Dam. 

It wasn’t massive but the slab of Old World engineering sat heavy against the valley’s ridgelines. Even after God knows how long, it endured. An old scar of concrete and steel, keeping the valley from bleeding into the Ascent’s basin.

But that wasn’t where they would go. The road continued downwards, not up.

Crane eased the Rexa forward until a maintenance bridge came into view at last, guardrails and pine-shadow at both sides.

“Hmm…”

He grumbled, then slowed the vehicle down, stopping well short of that bridge.

The others shared similar misgivings with him. Olivia sighed softly, sinking in her seat. Aiden leaned forward, drumming his fingers on the driver seat’s shoulder rest. 

God only knew how long the bridge had been locked up high over the rushing gorge, both sides pointing up to the sky.

Below them, the water surged on, indifferent to their first hurdle of the road trip.

“So…” Aiden broke the silence. “Any other roads you know, Olivia? Or should we look for the bridge’s controls?”

Unbeknownst to the new visitors at the bridge, they were being watched.

Before the Rexa steered round to the maintenance bridge, the hooded stranger silently strolled across the Dam’s spillway.

Beyond a short distance, the world dissolved into blurry indistinct shapes and lights unless they forced it into focus. So as per normal, everything else around didn’t matter. Only one goal: to get to the other side of the Dam.

The stranger barely reached the end, only to be stopped by three ‘fireflies’ under the sunlight.

The three humans moved fast in the distance; hands at the side, legs tucked and shining like little suns. The stranger didn’t fully register the vehicle they rode down the spiraling road but the glow was enough to catch their attention close to the spillway’s edge and observe.

The humans’ orange skeletons highlighted; two in the front, one relaxed in the back.

Human? Threat?

One of them stepped out, driver seat. Glancing around. The other two then did the same.

A low growl escaped the stranger’s charred lips. 

The two big ones below didn’t look right.

Crane examined the bridge’s raised span from the driver’s door. Counterweights were fine but there were no lights. No control box around either. 

Would have been too easy if it were right next to them.

He gazed up to the only place for the answer; drawing his gaze from one side of the Dam to the powerhouse on the other side. 

“Looks like our best bet’s the dam, then,” he said.

Crane had already charted in his head where to go inside and what he had to do. The narrow windows along the Dam’s face glowed faintly, showing that at least some of the systems were still running.

“Hopefully, nothing’s fried.” 

“The Baron should have some men stationed here,” Olivia added, now warily glancing around. “But…”

“No sign of anyone around,” Aiden beat her to the punch, combing their surroundings.

Since arriving here, everything seemed oddly calm. And there was evidence that the Dam had been converted into a Safe Zone. One set of stairs led up to where he spied some floodlights in the treeline. A post setup left abandoned at the Dam’s staff gate.

Crane would had at least seen some trouble coming their way. And yet, no hollers, no guns, not even a warning shot. 

Only for the rushing water.

“Maybe they stepped out?” he tossed that out. As if it were that easy, though.

After everything that happened in Castor Woods, some of the Baron’s men had eventually given up and ran away, tail between their legs. So this far away, clearly, they hadn’t gotten the memo…

Crane didn’t believe that himself, however.

“Hey,” Aiden muttered sharply. “We’re not alone.”

Crane and Olivia followed his line of sight.

Up to the spillway, where the stranger stared down at them.

Had it not been for the angle, they’d never have known someone was up on the spillway. Crane took it upon himself to pull out his binoculars for a better look.

Against the sun’s flare, he could indeed make out a person. 

But they didn’t look like one of Baron’s men. With the sun high, it was hard to see much details hidden into shadow. All he knew was that the figure wore a long, hooded camo coat — the blues discolored.

Alright. So they weren’t the only ones at the Dam. Now, was this person friendly?

Because there was something odd around the face and shoulders. Dark patches here and there that didn’t look like fabric… Something pale and leathery stitched onto the dark blue attire.

More concerning was that their stranger didn’t budge at all. 

Nothing else. Not even a wave of the hand to show they meant no harm like any sort of person.

Just watching them all the way up there.

Crane lowered the binoculars slightly, furrowing his brow. That was what bothered him.

“One of your friends?” Olivia asked.

Aiden heaved a sigh, more perplexed than everyone else. “Maybe… I know they wouldn’t be standing out in the open like that.”

A dilemma at hand. And the stranger at the spillway wasn’t making their move either.

They were at a stalemate — both sides cautious of each other until someone did something.

And Crane was that guy to take the dive, apparently.

“One way to find out.” Crane took out his walkie-talkie. “Hopefully, they have a radio on them.”

Beep!

“Hey.”

Through the binoculars, he watched. As luck would have it, the stranger seemed to stir, as if reaching for something on themselves. 

Attached to their coat was a squat yellow box that crackled and hissed. White noise crawled out of it, a faraway voice bleeding through the static; insistent, beckoning them to answer the box. 

Talons reached out to the radio, molten-orange veins snaking across carapace-covered skin.

“We’re not looking for trouble. Just trying to get across,” Crane’s voice echoed. “Think you can lower the bridge for us?”

Golden eyes flared wide.

As if something long submerged had been jolted upward — then fractured, blue simmering beneath the gold. 

The stranger didn’t answer back. Didn’t tear those eyes away from Crane down below.

“Do you copy?” he tried again.

Somehow, that stirred the stranger again. This time, their head snapped towards the way they came from. 

Something moved inside that building… 

ZZkkk-chh!

“Gark!” 

One clawed hand shot through the long, tangled mass of hair and clutched at something metal around their neck, as if loosening it would stop that insufferable jolt of pain.

But as quickly as it came, the horrible sensation vanished, giving them some relief. 

An endless cycle. Another burn layered atop old burns…

The cloaked stranger lingered for an awful amount of time that Crane almost thought they were trying to pull something. Wordlessly, however, they stepped away from the spillway and strode in the direction of the powerhouse.

Forward, slow, like they had all the time in the world, now that it had long gone to hell.

Until Crane couldn't see them anymore.

“I guess that’s a yes?” Aiden muttered, but was confused. Perhaps that wasn’t a Pioneer, but some unfortunate traveller stuck in the middle of this infested region.

Just downright creepy overall.

Crane didn’t comment on it. Whatever reason that stranger had to be there, wouldn’t mean they intended to follow through. 

He made his mind up, grabbing for his bag and weapons. The controls for the bridge could be damaged, there could be a trap waiting there, the Dam could be a damn Volatile hive for all he knew.

But he wasn’t gonna leave it to a stranger’s goodwill to sort it out.

Who knows. The stranger might need help.

“Whether or not our mystery friend is gonna be of help, I’m heading in either way,” Crane proposed. “...Aiden-”

“You don’t have to ask,” the kid cut him short, arching his head to Olivia. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“I’ll be sure to stay out of trouble for you,” she gave a quick nod. 

Aiden smirked, taking a bow. “Lucky for you, I take my VIP duties very seriously.”

Olivia’s smile, however, softened as she turned to Crane. “You sure about going in alone, Crane? We’re not in Castor Woods anymore.”

Meaning a lot of variables could go out of the window.

They were out in the open. No safety net, no Safe Zone to return to, no plan forward.

Hell, they’ve gone beyond what was on the map of Castor Woods. Once they’d cross the bridge, they would have no way of navigating until they found Aiden’s friends to lead the way through the Ascent.

Crane nodded, firm and unwavering in his resolve. “All the more reason I go alone. If there’s something we can’t handle, then best to hightail it back to the valley.”

“This isn’t you trying to ditch us again, right?” 

Aiden meant it as a dig. But the concern was hinted in his voice. 

Crane couldn’t blame him for that. Damn kid’s been like a shadow at times.

“No.” He wouldn’t back out on his word. All three of them were leaving that valley even if he were to carry them out on his back. “I’ll go in, get the bridge down, and see if that person is ok.”

Aiden slowly exhaled but accepted it nonetheless. The conviction in Crane’s tone left little room for argument.

Because they’d have nowhere else to go if things really went south.

“If anything happens, you pull back. No coming for me,” Crane ordered.

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled.”

Story continues on at this link: AO3.

[dlthedescent]

THE ASCENT - ONE: GOODBYE FOR NOW

The GRE helicopter had gone over the mountains days ago, never to be seen again.

Since then, the forest hadn’t made a sound.

Dawn brought along an eerie sense of repose the Palace had never seen in a long time. It made the walk disturbing, disdainful and disconcerting.

However, he pressed on. All the way to the hidden complex in the mountain.

By the time he reached there, the snowfall was gone. The icy wind didn’t carry the faint stench of rot and decay.

Again peaceful…

Too still. It was all deceivingly welcoming.The kind of calm long after a raging storm…

Almost too alien to him. That it was all too unbelievable to take in.

But once the dust had settled and the smoke had died down, it became a lot clearer that it was really over.

And yet…Crane still couldn’t accept it.

In fact, it was more like he wouldn’t.

Days, weeks. And here he was. Even when he tried to distract himself from that brittle feeling with the tasks he’d set himself. There was still so much to do after the big, bad boss was killed.

He did everything and anything until all the problems were cleared.

Until he had nothing else to do.

Again, that peace in Castor Woods just felt too deceiving.

Too comfortable.

So, one day, he returned to the complex up the mountain. Passed all the corpses he killed, some now unrecognizable by decay and some frozen from the chill.

All the way to the open cargo zone.

…

Nothing.

And he knew that coming here. Everything was where they should be when he last saw this place. The bullet holes, the scorches and dents, every trace of that fight.

The blood spills had been frozen up by now.

He continued on his path, all the way to the broken barrier.

On the cliffsides below him was the corpse. It was no longer human, but then again, that monster was never human to begin with.

The Baron — no, Marius Fischer…the very person who imprisoned Crane and everyone in Castor Woods, tortured and experimented him for thirteen years…lay dead on the shattered ledge with a pipe punched clean through his torso and into the stone beneath.

Broken limbs frosted up by the weather.

No movement. No breath. No mistaking it this time.

Exactly where Crane left him.

Making this trip all the more pointless.

Kyle heaved a heavy sigh, berating himself in silence as he agitatedly paced along the edge. What was he expecting to find here?

He didn’t know…

He remained there longer than he should have.

Looking for something.

As if the mountains might give him the answer — justify the climb, the doubt and the unease that had driven him back here in the first place.

But there was nothing.

Everything was finished. The Baron was dead. The valley was peaceful.

Over and over again, he’s been repeating those points in his head these recent days. And that should be enough.

That should be it.

The realization sat heavy in his chest, it was almost laughable. But after everything he’s gone through, he might as well be labelled as a madman.

How jagged he’s really become to want something.

There really was nothing keeping him here anymore.

He got his revenge. He sacrificed everything to stop the Baron.

This was the end of this story.

Crane could keep staring at the corpse down there for all he liked. That it actually would become like those Old World movies, where the dead refused to stay dead.

A terrible, awful nightmare if that was the case.

The more he bore his gaze down at the dead mutant, the more he thought he was seeing things, tightening his brow.

Like a talon twitching.

But that was a trick of the light. Maybe it was the cold. His paranoia getting the better of him again.

And yet…

“That body isn’t gonna move, you know.”

Crane stiffened, just slightly. He couldn’t hide the tension bottling up from the whole trip before he wheeled around to the last person he expected to be at the complex.

Aiden Caldwell.

“I know that,” Crane muttered back. “...You have a habit of sneaking up on people.”

The guy shrugged his shoulders. “Been good at it for years. You just aren’t exactly that hard to sneak on.”

Crane grimaced. “So, I’m just lucky today?”

Aiden instead took a moment with a stern glance at the old man. Like he would get him talking on the spot if he looked hard enough.

“...You look a little distracted these days.”

Crane huffed a quiet “hm” at that before he glanced back at the unmovable corpse.

It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it. Olivia noticed. Everyone noticed.

“...Just got a lot on my mind,” he admitted.

Without looking back, he knew the kid was studying him for a moment longer than necessary. Anyone would ask, “what was on your mind”? And Crane would actually be fumbling over the answer.

Or dodging it.

Aiden, however, didn’t ask. Rather, he simply joined him on the sightseeing.

“Hell of a view out here,” Aiden uttered.

Really? But Crane chuckled.

If it weren’t for the Baron’s damn corpse…it would have been a nice view to observe. Clear skies, breathtaking snow-covered peaks, and lush forests stretching for miles. Something like this rarely existed anymore.

All the more, it reminded Crane that the world outside Castor Woods was a different story…

Everything he once knew was no longer the same.

“So,” Crane started, still a little guarded around Aiden. “...What’s the occasion?”

At first, he didn’t reply. The steeled sternness in his blue eyes had softened — as if readying himself to say it.

And he did.

“Everything’s ready,” Aiden said. “Just looking for some kindling to start the fire."

Right… So it was time.

It didn’t hit Crane the first time. He even held in a deep sigh before looking over to him. “Alright… Why are you here?”

The muscular, tall guy shrugged his shoulders. “You were on the way. Figured we could find some scraps of paper in this place while I check on you.”

Crane held back a grumble. That was a bad excuse.

But…the consideration in Aiden’s lie was appreciated.

“So I’m included.” He let that hang… Then furrowed his brow. “Did you run all the way here through that tunnel?”

Aiden shrugged. “I needed something to stretch my legs. Makes for good practice.”

Practice?

That was a long-ass train tunnel. Even by vehicle, it took five, maybe seven minutes for Crane to reach the end. And the bastard in front of him didn’t look winded. But he kept those inner thoughts inside.

Aiden was just someone Crane had only met weeks ago. And the one thing that kept Crane from treating Aiden like just another stranger was his connection to Spike.

He was with him from the start when they snuck into the complex to try and break Crane out.

And failed.

The result: completely changed, thanks to the Baron experimenting on him.

Because of Crane…

And yet, within the few weeks prior, Aiden adapted faster than he expected. In fact, he learned a few things about the kid. Other than his whole physique changed, Crane could tell the man — younger than him by two decades — had survived as many battles as he had.

Every scar on him told him a story Crane didn’t need to hear. Kid moved with confidence, unscathed, because he knew what he was doing.

Whatever he had faced before…perhaps paled to what happened to him here.

That resolve showed. The man before him didn’t hesitate to join the fight against the Baron and didn’t question him to go save another life.

He knew he had his back just as he did with his.

Since then, a lot of things have happened since then. Very little was ever talked about between them. But, they didn’t need words.

The understanding was already present between them.

That said, he could be a little impatient sometimes.

Aiden was already turning away from the view, his boots crunching the snow.

“Well, shouldn’t keep everyone waiting,” he started his way towards the entrance, hands in pockets. But not before he glanced back.

The old man didn’t budge.

“You coming?”

Crane inhaled the cool air deeply, lingering on the scene for another second before he pushed off the railing and followed.

It didn’t take long before he stopped in his tracks; his gaze drilling a hole at the entrance.

Just now, there was a faraway low thump. Inside.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Aiden replied, as if that should have been obvious. “Never asked anyone to tag along.”

The familiar, foreboding feeling rooted deep into Crane’s gut. He’s always been used to it, and never has he second-guessed his instincts. Moreover, the kid’s answer cemented his suspicion.

Seeing that in his expression, Aiden now understood the reason for that question.

They turned to the doorway.

Someone else was in the complex with them.

Story continues on at this link: AO3.

[dlthedescent]

Fic Update

I usually only do this if it's reediting/improving my old chapters, or because I've been delayed for some time due to irl stuff. And the latter is exactly that. Last update news was in regards that I was busy with moving and settling into my new place around Oct. Up till now, it's been: moving, settling in, getting sick twice and bedridden on cold meds, finishing work before the holidays, holidays itself and recently hospital visits to see my relative. All which did delay my writing and I had to prioritize everything first (especially that for the last one, it may not be looking good). Always though I often get questions of when the next chapter will come or if the fic(s) is dead and I always will answer that I don't plan on dropping it when I love writing my fics. Usually if something comes out that delays the writing, I'd make it out of my way to let you guys know. A lot of things just happened over the holidays. I can't say I'll be truly back, I've even had not much time to fully finish the Beast too. That being said, I'm slowly just finding any free time I can do to get my mind off my current irl stuff whenever possible. Once at least I am able to get more free time, I'll certainly finish the Brecken chapter I'm halfway through for Descent. I am sorry it's taken so long but I wanted to let you all know the state right now. Thank you for taking the time.

[innkmarie]

don`t mind me, just leaving my fav boys here

[dlthedescent]

DYING LIGHT: THE ASCENT

Extract from the Pilot

“How’s it on your end?” 

The biker spoke over the comms, static crackling to life in his ear.

With a voice cutting through.

“Still nothing from Spike or Aiden…”

As he listened, he scanned the treeline before falling back to the closed-off service lane, swallowed by the fog. 

One of the ways out, they all agreed to go through once their mission was over.

At any time, he’d expect Spike and his friend to come out of that service lane with a third person.

Any minute.

That had been what he was hoping.

“We’re going beyond the time limit, Ethan.” 

“Really? Time sure flies.”

A grumble on the other end. But the two speakers on the other end had been used to his dry sense of humor since they were young.

“I hate to say this, but... Maybe it’s about time to call it here.”

“Yeah… It’s possible that they could be dead-”

“C’mon. You think Pipsqueak would kick the dust that easily?” The man on the motorcycle turned back to his old game. “And he’s with Spike. It should be fine.”

That was just himself saying that.

Over and over again.

To rid the annoying feeling inside his chest.

So he continued the train of thought as a means to disperse those grim thoughts.

“They’ll meet up at one of our rendezvous points with the Hero of Harran, intact. Then we can go down the mountain and be back home for drinks.”

“Is Aiden even old enough to drink?”

“He can have apple juice. Who cares? The sooner we finish our commission, the sooner we can leave this place.”

The motorcyclist sat astride the bike for a moment before scanning the treeline again. 

Castor Woods.

They weren’t even on the rim of the valley, and already, he’d heard stories about inside the place. That all manner of evil brewed in there like a pot of bad omen.

Which was hard to believe when you had the walking dead around you every single day.

He’d grown up seeing ‘evil’ up close, though — the kind that crawled out of the manhole and took everything from you before you even understood what ‘everything’ meant.

And before you knew it, it was gone.

If there really were something worse hiding in Castor Woods, then it’d have to be another ‘man from the playground’ to make him believe it.

To Ethan, fairy tales were just another way of what people told themselves when they didn’t have the guts to look closer. Better to be safe than sorry, and avoid it altogether.

But even so, this was uncharted territory. 

He glanced down at his hands, realizing he had been squeezing the knuckles in his right hand. With a tug at his glove, he straightened and rolled his right shoulder to brush the anxiety away.

Clanking sounds in the joints.

“This arm’s been needing some adjustments.”

“That’s your own fault for neglecting it again. I told you before-”

“Relax, Oz. It’s just a tune-up, not a funeral. And I have every bit of confidence that you’ll fix it right as rain.”

“He got you there.”

“Shuddap, Sammy… I swear, if they don’t show up soon, I might start talking to the trees.”

The biker chuckled. “You’re telling me. Lately, the woods’…”

He glanced around through his bike goggles. High and low. Almost tempted to slip them off for a clearer look around him.

How long had they been waiting at the meetup points? 

That only now had he noticed the difference in the air. A part of him, warning him that something was beyond the undergrowth.

Then gone before he could pin down exactly what the sounds could be.

“...Been feeling off.”

He couldn’t explain it even if he tried. But for the last couple of weeks…

It was all too still.

“Is this one of your ‘hero senses’ tinkling, Ethan?”

“He’s not wrong, though. Been noticing the infected acting weird. Like…”

“Like what?”

“They’ve gotten smarter.”

And everything fell quiet.

Too quiet.

Nobody could make a joke to shrug off what Sammy just said. Not even himself in an attempt to change topics. 

Smarter.

A word that shouldn’t be used on an infected. Because those shouldn’t have any sense of intelligence behind a pair of dead eyes. 

They drove on hunger — on sound and scent and motion. No plans, no patterns. Just the same blind instinct that had torn cities and communities apart and turned men into nothing but husks of their former selves.

There weren’t many people left who knew how everything was before the first outbreak.

That’s been the order of things for two whole decades. Nothing has changed. And there was that ironic comfort in knowing what to expect.

But lately, that comfort was starting to rot in the undergrowth.

The uneasiness inside Ethan worsened to the point of clenching his fists.

Because he had read up on this pattern before. Twenty years ago.

Story continues on at this link: AO3.

[tafferling]

Kyle Crane and The Nine Of Swords

Cover for Don't Stop in Hell, Season One (Ao3).

Gorgeous tarot card commissioned from @lurrlonde (bsky) please follow them and throw all your love at their art. I'm once again rendered speechless.

Do not reuse (as profile picture, header, etc), modify, or repost.

[dlthedescent]

I am new to Tumblr and IDK where to read your fanfic. I'd really appreciate it if you can help me somehow🥺

Hi! And welcome to tumblr!

And no worries. I use this blog to post previews of each released chapter for my fanfic with the links at the end of those posts but here is the link:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I hope this helps!

[thkondori]

[dlthedescent]

Old (2023) vs New (2025) Revamping the old fanfic over, still WIP

[dlthedescent]

Just gonna put this here but yeah, Mad Jack the Wild Dog.

I'll go do Freakazoid (aka Crane) next.