AN: alright, chapter 1 of ? lets hope this works out. Updates will be every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Leave a review if you like the writing or if you don't like it, I'll appreciate it either way.

Also, just a standard disclaimer; I don't own the main characters or the setting.

Anyways, the story:

***Miles P.O.V.***

Running, I took the stairs two steps at a time. Piercing static cries only jump started my heart and drove me faster.

The Walrider had to be close, had to be gaining. At the sound of yet another cry I reached the top platform, the floor linking the two walkways was gone, dangling to the side. Damn it was a long jump.

Goaded by fear I ran for the leap, flailing in the apathetic air I hit the grate with a crunching thud. Forcing myself not to think of the ribs that had to be broken by now, forcing myself not to feel the metal grate against the bony remains of my fingers, I pulled my broken body up. As I did the ghostly form reached me. Fueled by adrenaline I bolted through a dark hall. Weaving through the corridor I came to the final valve I had to turn to complete my task. With all the speed I could muster I wretched it to the side, expecting that thing to rip me to shreds any moment.

The task complete I again went to the dark hall, trying to muffle my steps and avoid the Walrider that must still be there. Again I come to the break in the path, reading for the harrowing leap I launch myself off the platform.

Only to be caught.

By it.

Tendrils of black smoke grip my arms and legs, pull them at unnatural angles, I know that this thing wants to see me suffer. It knows I'm trying to kill its mortal body. I'm doomed, I know it, but I don't give a damn. If this thing wants me it's going to have a hell of a time. Struggling I wretched free of its grasp, only to fall.

How far? Don't know. I'm shaking in air, it grips me again. For the briefest of seconds I see its face, only a blank slate, somewhere in the background I feel my shoulder leave its socket, I fall again. It's toying with me, wants to see me suffer. In the air it catches me by the leg, I tumble, I kick madly, I'm righted, only to fall again with scratches covering my body.

My knees hit the ground first, then those poor cracked ribs. I clatter forward, the only thought in my mind being to escape. Running on bleeding and battered legs I carry myself to the main room, the heart of this terrible beast. There in the pod is still Billy, a gear in the machine, I have to end him. I reach the control panel, slam the override button and have just enough time to spin around to see Billy's body dissolve, sending the clear liquid a murky red. The camera was out, I wasn't even sure when it had gotten to my hand, but I had captured his last frantic moments.

This was it, I was free.

Or so I thought.

The wailing shriek of the Walrider pierced my mind. It was alive. How was it still alive? I didn't have time to look up before it grabbed an ankle and ripped me downward. The camera went flying. I kicked at it, never making contact. It went to get a better hold, I took the chance and launched forward groping for the camera. Only for it to grab my shoulder and throw me back. It was there on top of me, rolling to the side I fell onto my feet. Off balance I dove again for the camera, I had to grab it and get out. I had to get out.

This thing couldn't keep up, it had to be dyeing. Billy was dead.

It again grasped me, this time around the midsection. Retching side to side, I tried to get free, but instead found myself being lifted from the ground. This wasn't it; I wasn't getting ripped to shreds after I should have won. Twenty feet later it spun to face me, still kicking and wriggling long after I thought it would do any good I floated, trapped. It looked as beat as I did, blank face ripped to gray ribbons. I didn't ponder long, my shoulders burned, its hands buried themselves there. Screaming with no shame from the pain it pushed in further, the ghostly body disappearing into my gut. Its broken face drifted from sight, and I swear I hung there for a second in the air. But alas, gravity found me; I plummeted to the uncaring concrete, yelling all the way. I landed with a crunch and heavy crash. My ankle snapped, ribs popped, and my head cracked.

While grunting and reminding myself to breathe I somehow noticed the camera, somehow stood; somehow I remembered how to walk.

Lurching now- not walking, not hobbling, but lurching while I could feel bones shift to places they should never be- I came to the stairs. On the stairs I crumbled, looking down I couldn't help but notice the camera was still recording. Of all the damn things to think about now I go back to the camera.
My vision blurs and my mind buzzes as I reach the door to this room. They slide apart noiselessly or at least below my level of hearing. The hallway is still a sterile white, the second set of doors are right there.

I am ten feet away, they open.

There are armed men. Where the hell did they come from? Is that Wernicke? What-?

I get shot.

A wound is in my non-dislocated shoulder. I have not the time to look down at the wound before the other men open fire. Before my bleeding body hits the ground I hear only a whine. My vision goes black. I feel not the ground that is surely below my head, but I hear that familiar shriek. I hear panic fire. I hear screaming.

Then I hear nothing.

I am still in the hall. It's less white, more red. I hardly understand how I'm alive at this point. There are no noises, until I hear fabric shuffling. At the same time my vision pans downward and the floor grows further from my eyes. I realized I must be standing.

That's odd. A lurching step told me I was on the move, but I couldn't feel my legs, or my feet, or my torso, or anything at all. I must have been moving at a steady pace, seeing as the hallway was going by at a constant rate.

In a daze I looked around dumbly, hardly thinking of where I was going. My gaze shifted to the left with me feeling my head turn. I was near the elevator, right?

As I numbly shambled down the hall my memories began to catch up with me. I needed to leave, it wasn't safe here. There were men with guns and, no wait, they were puddles of gore in the hallway. Chris is probably still around… around the air vents and concrete. Martin messed with the elevator, he was dead, not a problem. Trager? Gone.

The elevator was within sight now. I took a step and dimly remembered that my leg was broken last time I checked.

Before I pushed a button the doors slid open. Without questioning it I got in, the doors slid shut behind me and the thing began moving, again without my input. To hell with it, I'm not going to fight it, besides, there couldn't possibly be a second secret lab with another…

Another…?

Oh shit, I forgot about the Walrider.

Thinking back to the end of my ordeal I realized I had a blank spot. I went to lift the camera to eye level, only to notice that my hand and arm weren't cooperating. Win some loss some, I suppose, at least I could still walk. Still imagining the ghost phasing up through the floor I tried frantically to remember where it was. Let's see, I killed Billy, it picked me up, was about to kill me. Disappeared. I fell. Fumbled out of there. Got shot.

Where the hell did it go?

Before I drove myself crazy with the question the door opened with a ding. Without taking the time to think about moving I found myself standing in a wonderfully familiar room. The lobby, the sweet blood soaked, gore splattered, corpse littered lobby. And, could it really be? The door was open. The damn door was hanging wide open and the golden morning sun was shining through it.

To hell with what they say, I was going towards the light.

Or I would have been.

There was a voice, and angry low voice. A whimper. I never got the chance to see anything. All the pain that I knew had to have been there came bursting forward. The bullet wounds riddling my chest spilled fresh blood, my mangled left leg gave out under me like a limp noodle, my bruised and cracked ribs throbbed, the bony nubs that used to be fingers stung as if fresh, every cut, every bruise, every nagging stinging wound I had screamed for my attention. Fighting to stay awake, alive even, I caught sight of a black swarm, I heard the screech that I knew spelled doom. I wasn't dyeing here, not now damn it!

With every ounce of strength that I had hidden away I reached forward to drag my broken body. Only then did I see it. The swarm flowed like blood from my ripped hand.

Suddenly I knew where the Walrider had gone.