Chapter Text
Joshua Washington opened his eyes and found himself staring at the bleach-white tiles of a Med Bay room.
Not an odd sight, but usually he didn’t feel like he had been run-over by a bus. Groggily, he pushed himself into a sitting position, only to have pain erupt across his torso. He flopped back down with a hiss, clutching at his gut. The familiar action brought back memories— something slick, something red, cradled in his arms, against his stomach. He cautiously sat up again, hands pulling up the hem of his shirt to assess the damage.
The gashes were huge. Running from his groin to his ribs, Josh couldn’t help but wonder how he was still alive. The scars themselves were eerily clean—his skin hadn’t been torn so much as…separated. It was hard to remember what had happened. Thinking back, he had been with other people, ushering them through the corridors with other security officers. Then he turned the corner and ran right into a walking nightmare.
It had been massive, filling the space, and had razor sharp… something. Claws? His last clear thought was holding his intestines in his hands, someone screaming, and…nothing.
Whoever had patched him up was a miracle worker.
Josh ran his fingers down the taught, pink skin that ran across his middle, feeling the strong cords of medical thread that had been used to sew him back together. Some of the sutures had already fallen out, body in full recuperation. Even with the aid of healing gels—he reeked of that artificial mint fragrance the medheads loved to put in their concoctions—injuries like that took time to heal. Just how long had he been unconscious?
The longer he stewed in his thoughts, the more Josh realized something was amiss. In past visits, whether it was complications with his meds or something that happened on the job, med staff were usually in to see him by now. No equipment carts rumbling through the hallway, no soft ping of opening doors—everything was silent but the soft hum of the exam room’s electrical systems. Even then, Josh realized, most of the light in the room was coming from the single diagnostics monitor by the doorway. No people, no power…what was going on?
Feeling a looming sense of dread, Josh turned his attention to his surroundings. A standard exam room—occupied only by a cot, the computer, and a stool; there wasn’t anything that provided anything in the way of immediate answers.
But there was something folded on the stool in front of the computer monitor.
Josh could make out the familiar shape of a security officer’s riot helmet, not unlike the one he was assigned as part of his uniform. Sleek, dark, and imposing, it rested on a dark lump of fabric that had neatly folded and placed on the stool. Curiosity piqued, Josh rotated his body to the edge of the make-shift bed, delicately lowering his feet until they touched the floor. Steadying his resolve, he eased his body up and away from the bed. The monitor was only several paces away, but Josh could already feel his legs aching in protest.
Slowly shuffling forward, his body began adjusting to the idea of moving again. By the time Josh reached the computer, his legs no longer felt like jelly. They just tingled, like they had fallen asleep after being sat on for too long. Using the console to brace himself, Josh turned his attention to the contents atop the stool.
The helmet was plugged into the computer: charging, upgrading, something else? Josh couldn’t be sure. He lifted it up so he could get at the material underneath. As he suspected, it was the protective bodysuit that security personal were issued for emergency situations. The suit was deceptively light, only a few solid armor plates covered particularly vulnerable areas of the body. Its actual strength came from the carbon weave of the material. Maybe not strong enough to withstand a monster with razor-sharp knife claws, but it sure as hell was better than the scrubs he was wearing. He could only assume it had been left here for him, if he was going by the text on the monitor that insisted “Put me on!”.
Josh shimmied into the armor with a little difficultly; while his limbs were getting stronger, it still felt like he had run a marathon, sore and exhausted. The suit was also clearly not his: tight in many places, loose in a few. As long he could run if he had to, Josh would take the awkward chaffing. Picking up the helmet again, it definitely wasn’t his either. On the left side, by the hinge of the visor, someone had spray-painted on a blue butterfly decal. It wouldn’t have passed regulations; it must have been added after shit hit the fan.
Josh unplugged the helmet and slipped it on, the systems whirring to life in his ears. Vitals and other bits of information began to pop on the translucent material, adjusting to his bio-patterns. The synch-up was good, a soft chime informed him on the visor’s display. So long as the fit was close, the suit would power itself off Josh’s own expended energy. With everything coming back positive, Josh opened up his communications channel. If someone was out there, he was going to find them.
“Hello? This is security officer WA9487, calling on all channels. Anyone out there?”
Soft white noise droned in the speakers by his ears. Josh felt his heart start to sink. He tried again, heart pounding in his chest.
“Anyone one out there? This is security officer—“
A voice cut through the static. The com blared to life, a familiar voice soothing the rising sense of panic he felt.
"--n you hea-- wait hold--n, now? Can you hear me? Hey!"
What were the odds? Of all the bodies stationed in this shithole of a facility, he stumbled across a familiar one.
Well, one of them.
"Chris, bro, is that you...?"
The com beeped again, the channel steady and clear. "JOSH! Is that you?? My man, it is so good to hear your voice! I thought you were dead!"
Josh gingerly touched his stomach, unable to feel the sutures through the dense material of the bodysuit. "You know me, man, one foot in the grave at all times. How long was I out for? What the hell happened to everyone?"
The tinny echo of the speakers did little to mask the disappointment in his friend’s voice. "The escape route was a bust. Most everyone... well, a lot of people didn't make it. I thought you wouldn't make it. We need to get you someplace safe though, okay?"
Josh made a sound of protest, questions running through his brain, but Chris didn't give him the chance.
"Josh, I know this is really confusing and you probably have a million questions, but you REALLY need to get going, bro. Head to security dispatch, there's still a few people holding out there."
Well, that was decidedly bleak. Josh gave the room one last look-over, in case there was anything to take with him. "Is that where you're holding out?"
"Uh, well, yeah. There aren't really many other places you could be right now, you know?"
Josh didn't really know, but he grunted an affirmative. The room turned up negative on supplies, but at least he had the gear. Small combat knives stored in the attached utility belt, pre-programmed override codes in the small displays on his wrists—if those... THINGS, those monsters were still in the compound, it was better to have that than nothing at all. He tried the door, but was met with a rapidly blinking red light.
"Chris, the door's locked, I can't get ou--"
"Passcode's 0202, try that. I sealed the door after we put you in there so nothing could get in. And it worked—no need to thank me!"
Josh huffed in amusement as he punched numbers into the keypad. "You could've just said that in the first place."
“Yeah, sorry, I just—oh man… I’m just really glad you made it.”
Josh could hear the nervous energy in his friend’s voice, could imagine him wringing his hands. Despite the atmosphere and everything that he had gone through up to this point, he could already feel a glimmer of hope taking shape in his mind. Just knowing he wasn’t the last man standing made the situation something he could tackle. Besides, security dispatch wasn’t that far away. Just go through a couple doors, maybe an elevator ride, and he would be safe.
Determined, Josh took a deep breath as the door unlocked and slid open, preparing himself for what was on the other side.