[IC] 𝐇 𝐈 𝐍 𝐃 𝐒 𝐈 𝐆 𝐇 𝐓

[Insatiable]

ｎｅｌｓｏｎ

The growing dimness has been but a cause for concern rubbing into Nelson's thoughts. Night was to come and with the electricity's long absence, it wouldn't give him any conveniences to perpetuate the cause of his self-appointed task. His flashlight had gone dead three days prior, and navigating through the dark alleys of a long-forsaken city has never been so reliant on a lighter and a cigarette. Navigating during night wasn't impossible though, but given how barren the world currently was and how dreadful the unknown tend to be, one ought to have their instincts be driven by the desperate need of knowing what's behind and ahead. Three days short of food with his canteen nearly out of drinkable water, Nelson had been necessitating himself to bring his journey to a temporary halt. He had thought about it, but with his sustained initiative, stopping won't apparently bring him the needed resources to survive.

Eventually he did take a stop, but only because he was prompted by a noticeable bang from an old, run-down building nearby. Gazing curiously, he stepped inside without hesitation. It was unsurprisingly dark as he ventured, though nothing that his lighter could brighten up as he pulled a cigarette out from his pocket and have it lit up. The ignited flame revealed an ominous corridor, its decaying walls putrefied by the herds of molds and mosses. He followed where his assumptions led and headed east where he thought the sound came. He opened the first door near what seemed to be a reception desk only to be greeted by a space full of rubble and two double size beds that have seen better days. He continued forth, opening more doors with one suddenly collapsing as he clumsily groped its knob. Caught by surprise, dust dispersing from the fallen door had him coughing. He took a puff of his cigarette once he settled, checking the room with—yet again—the same setting of disorder: heaps of rubble and a set of moldy furniture.

There was one room that he checked, appearing to be rather different from the others. It was well-kept, furniture were put together in an orderly arrangement. Books were sorted neatly on wooden shelves that seemed far from decaying. The carpet was overrun by molds though, but that was the only one of all amenities with a noticeably untidy condition. It was odd to think that despite how people would salvage supplies from one place to another—leaving nothing but heaps of unwanted objects behind—something could be preserved. Nelson speculated someone was still living at the place, but given the circumstances and its location being a vulnerable spot for bandits, there were equal amounts of doubt that disproved his belief.

As feet moved quietly to the direction he'd set, a sudden clatter of metal parts was heard nearby, motioning Nelson to halt and hide between cornered spaces of the corridor. He was no longer alone, or at least he'd thought. He slowly tiptoed forward, peering towards the large door where the noises were conceivably produced. Through the darkness, a sign could be read. The room before him was the canteen, and going back to what he heard, someone might be scouring for food or anything that could be left to take. There were supplies, and the thought of it had given Nelson a purpose to stay and negotiate with whoever was inside.

Clicking the doorknob, the canteen's entrance creaked open. Nelson hoped that wouldn't be noticeable enough to give away his position. He heard no footsteps as he silently sneaked inside, which felt rather strange. An ambiance similar to the rest of the abandoned and decaying rooms could be observed inside. Untidy tables tossed and overturned, cracked tiles inhabiting the floors and dozens of flies hovering around the putrid mess of rotten food. There was a small pool of blood spotted further left on top of a table, and its fresh, crimson colour clearly indicated that someone had been around recently. Whether they could be hostile or not, he couldn't tell. What bothered him however, was the absence of a body near the table drenched in blood.

"Hello?" Nelson called, deciding to give himself away throughout the darkness. "I know you're in here. Listen, I'm not a bandit and I just wanted to talk."

Shuffling through more tables and chairs, he neared the canteen's counter. He stopped mid-step when he felt something beneath his shoe. He stepped away and pulled his lighter out, tapping its flicker to light up what was on the floor. With a sudden gasp, grimace replaced Nelson's eagerness to find whoever was hiding. Two bodies were lying down before him with one having both eyes opened lifelessly and a mouth that was left agape. The person was already dead though the other one, he couldn't be so sure. Nelson would place a hand on the person's back to scan any signs of breathing, but he feared something unpleasant might happen. He was the type of person who'd throw up from the sight of a dead body, but he didn't feel like doing so just yet. He waited and observed for any movements the second person might make, but after a short while, his patience waned.

He crouched, cautiously poking the person's head with his fingers.

"Hey, are you alright? can you get up?" He whispered. If it turned out to be a dead body, then vomiting was sure to follow.

[Wade Wilson]

ａｌｅｘａｎｄｅｒ

Alex's eyes snapped open, squinting immediately as they adjusted to the light streaming through the windows. He looked around; there were balloons, banners, faint laughing... a party? Yeah, a party.

He stood up from the chair he was so uncomfortably laid in, turning around and walking through the doorway.

"Alex, c'mon!" There came a voice, causing him to snap his head to the right. A kid was jumping up and down and beckoning with his hand. Alex blinked, before shaking his head and walking over. He entered another room - the living room - and was bombarded by people; relatives. The voices were muffled, but mostly consisted of "hey, you okay?" and "come on, we've got so much to do!". He walked to the left, trying to lazily swat them away with a hand as he examined a wall littered with cards. Opening one, he read it aloud:

"Dear Alex, happy birthday son. Love, dad."

It wasn't just a party. It was his party. But why didn't he know? Why was everything so bright and dim at the same time? Why didn't he recognise any of these people?

Turning around, Alex's eyes grew wider in realisation. He couldn't see any of their faces. They were shadowed out. But... why? It was perfectly sunny in the room, and the angle they were stood at made it impossible for their faces to be so... non-visible. And as he stepped forward, trying to find any sort of angle to see them at, he felt his chest getting tighter and tighter, like the wind was being blown out of him. But there was nobody there to hit him or even do something close to that. He began to shake as his mind derailed into panicked thoughts and pleas for help.

"What's going on? Why can't I see your faces? Who are you people?"

They didn't answer.

In fact, he didn't even hear himself talking.

And as he looked around frantically, he panicked more and more. The room was getting darker. Shadows were creeping out from the ceiling, shrouding each person in darkness one by one, like it was absorbing them. None of them even called for help, they just stood there as they disappeared and the darkness crept up Alex's body, covering him until his face was slowly getting absorbed. He slowly started to accept it; somehow managed to calm himself down by running over every rational explanation he could find. Was he in a coma? Was this just some nightmare? Would it be over soon? Or would the only thing ending today be his life?

No.

Alex refused.

He wouldn't let his life be taken by whatever this darkness was.

So, he closed his eyes, and let out one last shaky breath.

A muffled voice flooded Alexander's ears again. He wanted to scream; to try and escape. However, he knew he had to face this head-on. To do something.

He opened his eyes to find a darkened room. Was he still in the living room from his 'dream'? Two pokes to his head proved otherwise. As Alex shot up, catching the last few words of "Can you get up?", he cried out in agony. He felt something wet matting down his hair. Reaching a shaky hand up to feel it, he pulled away to find red smears on it.

"What the hell?! Where the hell am I?" He looked up, relieved to find that at least he could see this guy's face, but was still paranoid nonetheless. "And who the hell are you?"

Alexander looked frantically around - at the walls, at the ceiling, at the cold floor he was currently sat on - but nothing looked familiar. The entire place looked rundown, like it had been abandoned for years. A horrible stench crept up his nostrils, and he was taken aback when he looked beside him to see a goddamned dead body. He scrambled painfully to his feet, looking around for some form of weapon - to no avail. Deciding instead to slowly limp backwards, he glared daggers at the stranger.

"Did you... did you kidnap me?" He glanced down at the dead body again, holding back vomit.

[Insatiable]

The man's response was, at best, intriguing though Nelson was forced to step back from the frantic queries as if he would think violence was to follow afterwards. Thankfully it didn't, but he still readied his fists from behind lest things were to escalate in a brawl. One thing was for certain: the man wasn't a bandit, but him wondering why he woke up unaware of his surroundings had given Nelson a curious thought. Was he really kidnapped? and if he was, where was the person who did it? They could be armed for all he knew and initiate an ambush anytime from behind. Nelson peeked from left to right, clumsily observing for any noises under his suspicion. What he only heard so far were the man's loud spoken words which, to no extent, helped sighting any possibilities.

"Who am I? well, that's not important. What matters right now is you being quiet so that we will know the answer to your questions."

Head hung low, eyes watched as the man got to his feet, appearing to limp backwards with a look that held an unwelcoming glare. Nelson reached for another cigarette, lighting it up casually as it was placed pressed between his lips. When he glanced at the pack, there were only three left, and it was not looking good.

His thoughts wandered back to the bloodied table, deducting the chances like he was peeling a potato with his bare hands. Perhaps it could be connected with the man's situation, but then again, he wouldn't be quick to judge if it happened to be the case. It was not important however. Nelson knew that he needed to impart something soon and help was more than what he wanted.

With a quick puff of smoke, Nelson faced the man, mindless of his current state of unknowing.

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure whoever did it got away, but thank God I found you because I need help." As he placed his lighter back to his pocket, he stepped forward. "I'm not gonna tell anything yet at this point until we get out of here before someone or something steps in. Hopefully it won't be a something if ever worse comes to worst."

Awkward steps shifted into a rushed pace. When he was up close to the man, he would grab his arm with his in a bold attempt to end the contact unquestioned. He could only hope the man won't retaliate and respond with another set of questions, though it felt much more like wishful thinking than anything else. Time, as what he knew, have been running short and ending up in places devoid of resources was already impeding his pursuit.