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rose_and_raven
Star
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2016
Lost in the Fog part one
Fog Bound
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(AN- Not Betaed Revised.)
The fog.
The fog was lifeless and oppressive. And thick, allowing for only a few feet of visibility in any direction while it swirled around the dead trees that lined either side of the cracked road with its faded yellow lines running off into the distance.
He glanced behind him at the wreck of a truck that was halfway in a ditch, the driver's side door hanging open and the headlights barely piercing the gloom. The ‘Fazbear Fright House’ and ‘Sinclair Amusements’ painted on the side are barely visible in the darkness. A small sea of smashed and broken boxes spilled out like entrails from the back of the truck. The mess was made worse by their rough passage out of the truck.
Normally waking up in an unknown location would have brought the fast hard bite of fear and confusion but all he felt was annoyance. Annoyance at waking up in the middle of nowhere, at being thrown into the back of a truck like junk and at the sanctity of the old restaurant being violated.
Mangle made a faint sound, hanging from the back of the truck like a deranged Chirtsmas ornament. He sighed softly but no air passed through the black cracked lips or stirred in the broad chest. He turned towards his longtime companion, taking its head in both hands and lightly resting his own against it for a moment. The fox shifted closer, silent.
“What are we going to do?” he asked, voice rough. He buried the thick fingers deep into the dirty white fur on either side of the fox’s head. “At least you stayed with me. Unlike everyone else.”
Everyone else can go to hell, he thought bitterly.
He turned back to the winding road. Stay with the truck, among the broken animatronics, junk and boxes in hope the driver would return soon and end up having a screaming fit then run away at the sight of him or walk down the road and hope to find a town at the end of it and risk being shot at. Bonus points if a Frankenstein type mob formed upon their arrival complete with pitchforks and torches. Despite the risks, the town would hold numerous hiding spots, dark alleys, pools of shadow and abandoned places.
The choice wasn’t hard.
Stay with the truck. It's safe.
He paused and ground his teeth in agitation. Shut up. The suits AI fell silent. He motioned to the mangled mess of a fox. “Let's go.” Mangle inclined its head then climbed up his back and clung on like a tick.
With a low growl he began to walk forward, the milky white fog swirling around his legs.
A large decrepit sign loomed out of the darkness. The paint cracked and peeling but the letters spelling out Silent Hill were still visible. It was here he paused, dull eyes fixed on the sign. The sight of it stirred of hazey half forgotten memories along with the distinct feeling he had been there before.
The moment he stepped past the sign he felt a mortifying chill that spread down his spine. There were no words in his vocabulary that could properly describe the sense of foreboding that seized him like a vice. Feeling the same unease the fox-dog clung on all the harder, ears pinning back.
“Easy. It's just a creepy fog.” he tried to reassure the mangled animatronic though he felt the sense of foreboding growing, pulling at him like a physical weight.
I don’t like this. Go back to the truck.
I thought I told you to shut up.
The off yellow fur on the back of his neck stood on end while he ground the large blocky teeth in indecision.
William stepped past the sign, then took another step. The sense of dread clung all the tighter to him, wrapping its icy claws deep into his framework. His head swiveled to glance back and the dim shadowy outline of the truck. After a moment of hesitation he began to walk towards town.
The thick grey fog eventually rolled back enough for him to see sidewalks on either side. Faded, darkened husks of storefronts slowly materialized from the gloom. Most were boarded up, peeling signs creaking softly in the wind.
He was very aware of the lack of human presence. No cars could be heard, no voices, not even the barking of dogs. The only constant sound that broke the unnatural silence was occasional distant noise that he could not identify or distant rumble of thunder.
There was no shaking the wrongness that saturated everything. Or that something in the mist was keenly aware of their presence.
It was surreal.
And frightening.
Maybe the damn rabbit was right and he should return to the truck. But he really didn’t want to end up in some shitty cheap fright, suffering the embarrassment of popping out of dark corners scaring teens. That and there was no doubt in his mind they would use Mangle for parts due to its condition. It was something he couldn't allow.
He paused in the middle of the road, surrounded by dark traffic lights and decaying hulks of buildings, ragged ears twitching back and forth. He tried to convince himself it was just a ghost town, they were scattered all over the place, there was nothing to be frightened of but the sense of dread remained.
Taking stock of the buildings around him, he spotted what appeared to be a small dinner. The facade of the building was decayed in spots by rust and rot, the neon dull and broken. The windows were dark and empty like the sockets of a skull. Pushing past the unease he pulled the door open.
The faint tinkle of a bell hanging above the door broke the silence momentarily.
The air inside was thick and stale,all the old seats were covered by dust and filth waited patiently for people that would never return. Broken blinds half covered the large windows lining the front of the dinner allowing brief flashes of lightning to illuminate. Faded posters and cobwebs covered the walls while piles of grimy dishes were stacked in random spots. No dinner had been served there in years and never would be again.
It was as if the dinner was a relic of a forgotten past that nobody cared about. It was as much of a tombstone as the old restaurant had been.
He ignored the worn and faded menus that were scattered on the black and white checkered floor. It wasn’t as if he could eat any way. Instead, he made his way over to the counter and sat on a faded rusting barstool, fingers tapping on the scared and grimy countertop while Mangle busied itself by exploring the small dinner.
A few moments later rain streaked down the windows distorting the view outside.
One ear twitched, the old audios picking up an odd sound. Sitting up a bit he looked around for the source of the sound. The old fashioned jukebox in the corner was dark so the sound could not have come from it. Getting up he searched the dinner, broken glass crunching underfoot, mangled ears straining to catch the static.
On a table in the far back he found the source of the sound. A small handheld radio sitting on the farthest table had dared defile the holy aura of the refuge by broadcasting broken bits and pieces of stations. He picked it up and the sound stopped suddenly though the tiny green power light remained on.
“That was...odd.” he muttered to himself. He examined the radio, fiddling with the dials with large clumsy fingers for a moment though all it picked up was static. He made to throw it across the dinner then paused. It still worked and the silence was nearly suffocating so why toss it? Maybe he could pick up a few stations once he left the dinner. With a sigh he tucked it into a large hole in his chest.
Turning he leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest while he watched the rain for a few moments then pushed off the counter and explored the dinner.
Maybe there’s a map or something on one of the tables, the voice offered helpfully.
Why would there be a-
People left things behind all the time in the restaurant. Shoes, hats, toys, that radio. Maybe they left other things.
There was no arguing with that logic. Even if he didn’t find a map in the dinner there might be a gas station nearby that would have maps. At least he would know where he was and could plan out what to do from there.
A search turned up nothing but dust, broken dishes, and a few desiccated carcasses of rats. With a grunt he straightened up, joints creaking in protest. “Did you find anything?”
Mangle shook its head, hanging from the ceiling like an oversized insect, lightning gleaming off the exposed metal work of its endoskeleton.
The radio screeched to life, startling them both. Loud static filled the tomb like silence of the dinner. William took out the device and fiddled with the knows and buttons. "Must be broken."
Something moved in the fog outside, hunched and moving slowly just on the other side of the street.
Curious, he walked over to the window and looked out into the rain. The shape moved in an unnatural manner, lurching with each step. It made him feel uneasy.
Doggy!
He winced at the loud cheerful exclamation that echoed in his head. That’s not a dog.
It has to be. What else could it be? I want to pet it.
No dog moves like that. Even if it was a dog it would be feral.
The confusion trickled through the unease. It means aggressive, wild. It won’t be nice. And I don’t want more holes in me. The shape in the fog staggered off and just as suddenly as it started the radio fell silent.
He could feel the disappointment coming off the AI in waves and not for the first time he regretted being fused with the suit. It had been so long that they were a part of each other now, shared memories, emotions, everything. Well almost everything.
Once the rain stops, I'll look for a gas station or something, and try to find a map.
The AI went silent and the only sound that filled the tomb like silence was the patter of rain on the windows.
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AN: This is going to a revised/rewrite of the whole fic. I really didn't like the direction it was going in and it lost a lot of the horror feel. And in this AU, William wasn't the killer, Hennery was. Its a total roll reversal that should be fun to mess with