Re: Silent Hill: Wren/Evie/Luke/Jack
[Even with the front door slammed shut and locked, the nightmare followed. It was all around them, everywhere, but they were in the building where they needed to be, and Wren (and Evie) were only three floors up. He had to believe they were there. Adrenaline narrowed his focus to one goal, and one goal only, with single-minded intensity: find Wren. Fear turned to anger, like a switch being flipped on, and he didn't fight it. Better to be angry than afraid. Anger made him strong. Fear made him weak. He holstered his gun and wiped his bloody hands on his pants, so he could grip the baton more tightly.] 326. [The apartment number. He looked over his shoulder at Jack, trusting implicitly in his ability to keep up, and went for the stairs. He didn't walk. He ran, past the rust and the wires and the blood, and when familiar-faced monsters, twisted nightmare creatures, got in his way, he bashed their fucking heads in.
He didn't blink. He didn't hesitate. The carnage didn't bother him, he could turn it off like he had before and turn on something that he tried to keep buried, because it was bad. But desperate times called for desperate measures, right? And Luke meant it when he said nothing could or would keep him from getting to Wren.
Up the stairs they went, and Luke rounded the corner onto the third floor with an extra burst of speed. There was a monster in the middle of the hallway, blocking his way, features twisted and warped into something familiar, but he didn't even stop. He bashed its head in too, just like the others, over and over until it was just a mess of blood and rent flesh, only stopping once his hands were (again) too slippery to keep proper hold of the baton. He paused, wiped his hands on his shirt, and opened the door to the apartment.
Coming face to face with Evie pointing a gun at him and Jack wasn't what he'd expected, and Luke just stared, knowing there was no way to go for his own gun in time before she pulled the trigger. The inside of the apartment looked like a slaughterhouse, but he didn't care; his gaze darted around, looking for Wren. Where was she? Where? He was about to ask, about to fucking run her down if she didn't lower the gun, but then she did lower the gun and he relaxed. Just a little. He moved further into the apartment, barely paying attention to what Evie was whispering in his desire to find Wren; it was so strong he couldn't breathe. He nodded absently, agreement, because he really didn't care. They could leave. That was fine. As long as he had Wren, they could go wherever. Preferably home.
Forgetting about Jack and Evie entirely, he yanked open the closet doors. The first thing he saw was Wren, huddled in a corner, and his relief was so strong he almost sobbed. But then Luke saw the child-- no, not a child. Just a monster that looked like one, burning from the inside out, too close to Wren for his liking. It wasn't his son. It wasn't anything.] That's not him. [His grip on the baton tightened, as the monster-child turned; instinct dictated that he bash its head in, too, but maybe she shouldn't see that. Maybe not. Instead Luke moved without fear, reaching for Wren and kicking the thing away when it got too close. He drove it back, back, as he found her fingers with his and tugged.] We have to move, baby. It's okay. I'll keep you safe.