(BtVS/F.E.A.R.) F.E.A.R. Nothing
Disclaimer: I'm poor. I own nothing
Notes: A follow-up to my previous ficlet 'F.E.A.R. Itself'.
Notes2: Just a warning. Massive spoilers for the game.
F.E.A.R. point man Xander Harris ran through the warehouses above the Origin facility as fast as he could, taking apart the ghostly manifestations of Alma’s anger and pain as he went. They were ridiculously easy to take down compared to the Replicas; the clone soldiers that were being controlled by Paxton Fettel.
The Replicas were left lifeless drones after Xander put a bullet through Paxton’s skull. His body lay next Alice Wade, his final victim.
Xander felt pity for the woman. She had gone off on her own to find her father only to die so close to her goal. He had allowed himself only a moment of guilt over not making it in time to save her before pushing it down. Her father still had a chance.
Or, at least that’s what Xander had though until he made it down the hall to find Harlan Wade opening the containment chamber holding Alma.
Dieing hadn’t slowed her any. Her hate had conquered even death. When he watched Harlan Wade’s violent and bloody end, a part of Xander couldn’t really blame her.
Harlan Wade was the chief scientist on Project Origin. He was there when Alma was discovered to be psychic and taken from her home at age eight. He was there to deliver her first child age fifteen when not even the chemically induced coma was able to completely restrain her.
Xander winced at the thought of the child as he jumped over some debris. The baby was the prototype for the psychic commander Alma’s second child, Paxton Fettel, became. For whatever reason the prototype failed and Xander didn’t want to think about what these monsters would do to a baby they saw only as a failed experiment.
When he saw a light coming through the double doors up ahead, Xander sighed in relief. He may make the evac helicopter before the underground complex made a very big boom after all. With that thought in mind he didn’t even slow down as he hit the doors.
It was only after he was on the other side that he ground to a halt.
Gone were the dirty, rundown warehouses. In there place was a sterile and pristine hospital room. A fifteen-year-old Alma was restrain in the centre of the room with doctors surrounding her.
“Give me back my baby!” she screamed as one of the doctors turned and Xander saw a younger Harlan Wade holding a newborn in his arms; eyeing it with clinical detachment. “Let me hold my baby!”
Harlan ignored her as he walked away with the newborn, straight past Xander. As he turned to follow the man Xander’s gaze fell on a table next to the door. A file lay on it with the name ‘Alma Wade’ in large bold letters. Xander glared at the man as he walked down the blindingly white corridor.
“Cold hearted bastard,” he muttered darkly.
When he turned back to the room the teenaged Alma and the doctors were gone. In there place stood a little girl in a red dress, her face pale and gaunt, her eyes sunken and dark. A twisted version of Alma at eight years old.
“I know who you are,” she whispered as the room began to fade. “My baby.”
Then she was gone and Xander found himself outside. He felt the ground shake and saw fire and debris rise from the earth several blocks away. As the shockwave lifted him off the ground and propelled him backwards Xander’s mind replayed something he had heard from a recording of Harlan Wade.It is the way of men to make monsters… it is the nature of monsters to destroy their makers.