Chapter Text
A dim light subtly flickered above Scarlett as she adjusted the straps of her backpack, taking note of how they were too loose for her small frame. She'd have to be careful when running with it, though she also understood that folks in the Tower couldn't be picky when it came to supplies. Not when you lived in Harran.
It was late evening as she walked down the quiet hall, she had watched the sun as it had just set, and was now preparing for her first night run. Her first venture out into the horrors that lurked in the darkness of this hellscape. And worse still, she’ll be doing it alone.
To say she was nervous was an understatement, she was actually ever so faintly trembling, despite her best efforts to hide it. She knew that her fellow runners noticed, given the way they watched her. Some with concern, others with dread, and a few looked like they were already mourning her. Scarlett put on a brave face anyway, nodding in greeting as she passed by them, and even to the Quartermaster, who glanced up from his clipboard for just a second before scribbling something down.
However, before she could jump down the hole in the floor leading out into the streets, his voice stopped her.
"Hey, kid? Hold up a sec, I want to talk to you." He prompted, and Scarlett wasn't sure why the blood in her veins turned to ice, but it did.
Rubbing the goosebumps from her bare arms, she spun on her heels and approached the counter.
"Yeah?" She asked simply, doing her best to hide her fear. She could tell by the quirk of his eyebrow that he wasn't convinced by it, but thankfully didn't comment.
"I'm not supposed to really make this into a big deal, but... I like you, kid. You got a type of vigor that a lot of us have long since lost, so... I'd rather see you come back in one piece." He admitted, and there was no malice or hidden intent, it just sounded like he genuinely allowed himself to care, despite how many runner names he's crossed out over the years.
"I plan to, sir." She declared in an even tone, not bragging, but with genuine yet fragile optimism that strained under the weight of reality.
"Good. But you should know... Crane hasn't been back in a few days." He told her gravely, and she could tell that his tone was... Off, with how he said it.
It wasn't the usual declaration of when a runner goes missing, likely to never return. This was different, this was more out of concern for her, rather than for Crane.
Her stomach twisted into knots as she recalled why. The rumors, the stories and whispers circling that man bordered on nightmarish. She didn't pay them all too much mind, even if she engaged with some of the talk. But that’s all it was, just talk.
She probably should have thought about that, in hindsight, but she didn't pay the man himself much mind either, they didn't cross paths really. He only went out on night runs these days and Scarlett was only out during the day... Until tonight.
The woman shifted uneasily on her feet, thumbs hooking into the straps of her empty backpack, doing her best to not let her fear be obvious, even if it probably was.
"Crane... You mean, Kyle Crane? The..." She scoffed at what she was about to say, even as her heart skipped a beat at the same time. "The Beast Runner?"
Even the Quartermaster tensed subtly to hear that title. It was incredibly fleeting, not even a whole second, but Scarlett saw it.
"It's no joke, kid." He told her firmly, his tone hushed, but dire as a gravestone.
Scarlett tried to stop the shudder that erupted in her shoulders, but it came out anyway. Perhaps it wasn’t just talk after all.
"Right... I mean, the other runners. They tell a lot of stories, we’re all pretty bored when we’re not fearing for our lives, so surely they're not all true?" She asked, especially since some of them were pretty outlandish.
"Of course not." The Quartermaster remarked, though his tone was anything but light as he flipped through three pages on his clipboard. Three days ago, the last check in from Kyle Crane. "But you must know that he's not... He's not like you other runners, skittering about rooftops, trying to not jump at your own shadow."
There was some of that Quartermaster coldness that Scarlett was used to, but she knew exactly what he meant, at least enough so. They may not cross paths much, but she's still seen Crane. He was the biggest man she ever saw, rivaling the size of a Goon, those towering infected nearing eight feet in height, grotesque and slow.
Kyle was neither of these things, even if it didn’t stop him from being so huge, so much so that the coat he wore, his own coat, hung off of his frame in shreds barely clinging onto a body that has nearly doubled in size, stitched back together haphazardly over the years, and pants that looked like they were two pairs sewn together to make one pair big enough for him. Otherwise, his muscular frame was on full display, skin so thick that it was almost like hardened leather than human anymore, even if it was still the same color... For the most part.
But then there was how he moved. Smooth, quiet, graceful, like a natural-born predator despite his size. A person that big shouldn't be stealthy, but she had found her heart leaping in her throat a few times when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she turned, just to see him there, not looking at her but going about his business like an oversized spectre.
Finally, there was his eye, just the one, his right. It was only subtly bloodshot in the light, but in darkness, under shadow, she could have sworn she saw the iris gleam bright red once. In a way that hinted at something no longer human.
It was so brief, and she didn't dare ask. Kyle wasn't big on words or socializing, never even spared her a glance, she was just another rookie scurrying underfoot. Literally, in her case, as she was probably one of the smallest for her age.
All in all, one thing was clear. Crane wasn't human, not entirely, and the Quartermaster's behavior only proved that.
Scarlett exhaled shakily, shifting on her feet again as she worked to find her voice again, trying to not let her imagination run wild as her thoughts drifted to the stories.
"Why are you telling me this?" She asked instead, her tone coming out more tense than she intended.
The Quartermaster eyed her, staring at how she held herself. Shoulders drawn in, knees bent like she was actively fighting the instinct to cower away from some unseen threat, faintly trembling but trying to hide it by fidgeting instead. He then glanced around, making sure no-one was snooping, before he leaned closer on the counter, closer to her but still sitting down.
"I won't try to pretend that I know what stories are true and which ain't, but I do know that something isn't right with that man. He has to head out for days, sometimes a week at a time, something about the... Infection in him, it's different. That man is capable of killing a volatile with his bare hands, had more than a few runners like yourself report how he rescued them from having their guts ripped out. However..." He trailed off, as if considering what more he should say, if anything.
"He hunts when he gets like this. I think he leaves the Tower to take his... Instincts out on the virals and volatiles, yet it... It doesn't always stop him from chasing runners too." He warned her, not as a joke, nor was it like he was trying to scare her. No, it was as if he was trying to break the news as seriously as he could without breaking her in the process.
Her trembling became worse as a response, her knees subtly bending further, arms instinctively covering vitals.
"So, if you want my advice... If you feel like you're being followed by something that’s too quiet, too clever and yet far too big... Don't run, but don't cower either. Show him that you belong too, that you're not infected, but also that you're not... " The Quartermaster made a face, like what he was about to say disgusted him.
"Prey."
The word came out like a death sentence in itself, like just saying it would provoke Crane to appear behind one of them with bloody fangs. If he even had fangs, she never considered it.
This borderline terrible news caused Scarlett to feel the color drain from her face, with goosebumps forming over her arms again, much worse than earlier, and her mouth worked before she could stop it.
"H-how?" She squeaked, her throat feeling impossibly dry suddenly, but the word came out anyway.
The Quartermaster scoffed in response, eyeing her posture for just a moment, before pointing at her with his pen.
"By not doing that, for starters. Relax your shoulders, straighten up. You're a woman, not a rabbit." He scolded, and watched her with critical eyes.
For a second too long, Scarlett didn't understand, she felt frozen in fear already, imagining a gleaming, singular red eye peering down at her from a rooftop, a flash of grinning teeth too white to be a known infected.
The Quartermaster kicked his desk, causing Scarlett to yelp and jolt in her skin, almost leaving it. However, it was effective, for his words sunk in and she straightened up, forcing her shoulders to relax, legs and spine straightening up and then she puffed her chest out to appear bigger than she was. It lasted for a whole single second.
"Un-understood." She said as sternly as she could, which... Wasn't at all.
The Quartermaster eyed her with skepticism, and muttered something under his breath. Scarlett tried to strain her ears to pick it up, and it sounded like something along the lines of 'hope he likes you'.
She really wasn't sure what that meant, and wasn't sure if she wanted to.
"Gonna have to be good enough. And for Christ’s sake, don't attack him. It won't do any good, it'll just piss him off." He remarked in his more usual cold manner, a tone Scarlett was used to.
Right, because this was a man who fought volatiles barehanded as a way to cool off. It didn't escape her notice that his body was covered in healed over scars, but never long lasting wounds. Her preferred weapon was a bow anyway, and she certainly wasn't going to provoke him at range.
"As for not running, two reasons for that." The man held up two fingers before continuing. "He's faster than you. Hell, he’s faster than all of us. Has all the training of a runner, and he’x ex-military with three times the power. So because of that, you don't want to... Challenge him. Crane was a competitive bastard even when he was, well, normal. I wouldn't want to race him now, not with him now probably willing to eat his competition.". He remarked with an edge of crude, dark humor at the end.
Scarlett struggled to keep her legs from buckling as the quiet part was admitted out loud. Eating runners, eating her... That's what this was about. Survival tips about not becoming a meal for something so terrifying that even Volatiles fell prey to it-to him, on a regular basis.
The Quartermaster seemed to take note that his harsher words threatened to break Scarlett, and he drew in a deep breath.
"Listen kid, Crane isn't your only worry. To be frank, he’s probably your least worry. I've not gotten any confirmed reports of him actually killing anyone, just some pretty minor injuries considering what he can do, and some strange ramblings of distressed runners. That's all. I just want to make sure that you're prepared in case you do meet him." He told her in a softer tone, as soft as the man got anyway. Which wasn't saying much, but it was something.
Scarlett nodded in understanding though. The virals, the volatiles, those were the threats that didn't hesitate, that didn't have restraint. Crane obviously cared to some degree, he still came back, eventually. Often with a heap of supplies, or a runner once considered dead, still breathing in his arms, covered in so much sweat that it was like someone bathed them in strange soap. Or at least, that’s what she heard, she never actually saw it.
The main difference was, runners could still outrun a volatile, if they were good enough. What could she do against Crane, if he decided to give chase? That fearful realization crept into her mind just as she had pushed the general fear out.
The Quartermaster eyed her one last time, and noticed that Scarlett was doing it again. Shoulders drawing in, knees bending, whole body trembling. He tossed the clipboard on the counter a little too hard, snapping her out of it with a smaller jolt than before.
“Anyway kid, go on and scram. Night isn’t getting any younger, or safer. Just... be careful out there.”
Scarlett nodded once again, offering a weak smile. “Y-yeah I should go. But uh, thanks, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The Quartermaster returned to his note keeping with a huff, and she didn’t miss him saying ‘we’ll see’ under his breath. She did her best to ignore it as she dropped down the hole, feeling UV lights bathing over her. UV lights that Crane provided them, risked his life to do it too, considering that he was a man then.
Now... Who knows what exactly lurked out there in the dark.
Scarlett had to bite back a scream when a hand suddenly slapped her shoulder in friendly greeting, just as she was about to leave the safety of the UV lights.
“You heading out now?” A boy’s voice asked, it was Aaron, grinning down at her in a way that told Scarlett of his mischievous intentions to make her fear worse. Not out of malice, but because he was, to put it simply, an idiot who couldn’t read the room.
“Y-yeah, first night run.” She reminded him in a voice that came out half like a squeak, hoping he’d for once have mercy.
He did not.
“Oooh that’s right, and hey, the big man is out there too, did you hear? Been three days too, I bet he’s pretty hungry~” The boy teased lightheartedly, and pinched Scarlett’s arm.
She yelped more frightfully than she wanted to, but her nerves were just too frayed to stop it as her heart fluttered in her chest so much it almost started to hurt.
“Stop it!” Scarlett snapped more desperately than she was used to hearing herself sound, especially to her friends. For better or for worse, they didn’t seem phased.
“Hey don’t worry Scarr, I doubt he’ll chew. You’re like a toothpick wrapped in meat and skin!” Another boy by the name of Tim declared, and both laughed.
Normally she’d laugh with them, she often did, the three of them were all young and occasionally foolish. But Scarlett didn’t have it in her, not now, not tonight. Instead, she only whimpered, her legs shaking in a way that threatened to give out under her.
Finally, the boys noticed.
“Woah woah, hey Scarr, shucks...” Aaron began, now resting a more gentle hand on her shoulder, his grip just tight enough to feel grounding.
Tim approached from her other side, and both boys exchanged guilty glances, before the second one spoke.
“We’re sorry, we were only trying to have fun. We didn’t know how scared you are of him now.” Tim said with genuine sympathy.
She knew they didn’t mean it, the three of them gossiped often about Crane. It was like what she told the Quartermaster. When they weren’t actively out on a run, they were bored and sometimes dumb.
“It-it’s okay, I just... I just wish you guys could come.” She admitted meekly, doing her best not to let her emotions overwhelm her as she steadily straightened herself up again.
“Us too Scarr. Unfortunately, we stayed up just long enough to see you off.” Aaron admitted, and she looked at him to see his arm bandaged from scratches, and Tim had grime still on his face. They’ve been out all day, they must have been exhausted.
Scarlett found a weak but tender smile appearing on her face, even as moisture built up in her eyes. She blinked to try and suppress it.
“Thanks, I... I appreciate that. I’ll be okay, I promise.” She told them with earnest, trying to gather up her bravery and that supposed vigor that the Quartermaster mentioned before. She wasn’t sure if she still had it tonight though.
However, in that moment, the boys perked up again, while mischief returned to their eyes and smiles, but softer this time.
“We know, we have faith in you! And hey, not all the stories about Crane are bad!” Tim pointed out, giving her a comforting pat on the nearest shoulder.
“Yeah! Like how he sometimes just snatches up runners and brings them to his nest, like he’s adopting stray kittens.” Aaron barked with lighthearted amusement.
She recalled the story, a young woman not so unlike Scarlett herself, missing for nearly two days, then Crane brings her back after he himself was gone for four, not a scratch on her. Yet she claimed that the man actually does make nests or dens out there, and that he kept her at one for most of that time.
It sounded insane, absurd even, and she scoffed, shaking her head.
“And hey, he’s been gone three days, right? Means he’s been hunting, and there’s always lots of Volatiles out there for him to eat, I’m sure he won’t bother you.” Tim added, bless his heart for trying to be reassuring, even if she only felt more dread to imagine that Crane could be an actual predator of Volatiles of all things.
Scarlett gave him a laugh for effort, even if it came out decidedly more nervous than she wanted it to.
“Thanks guys. Try to get some rest, I’ll be back before you know it.” She told them with renown courage, fragile as it was, and slapped them both on the back, one hand each.
They laughed again and wished her goodnight, and good luck. Then they climbed back up the hole behind them, and Scarlett ventured forth into the darkness, gripping her bowstring against one of her backpack straps.
----------------------------------------------------
Scarlett had been out for about two hours now, and the fear of Kyle Crane snatching her up for an easy meal had long since left her. The Quartermaster was right, she had many more things to worry about. To fear and to avoid. It didn’t mean she forgot about him though, especially as she kept finding... evidence.
She found two such instances on the rooftops, the remains of something too big to have a predator normally. She was confident that the second one she found? It was definitely a Volatile. Now nothing but blood and picked clean bones with subtle hungry tooth marks on them. Whatever did this, it was incredibly ravenous and strong, given how the limbs were pulled from their sockets before consumption, and the ribs were peeled open like a protein bar wrapper. The fact that the ribs weren’t broken from such a motion, and how the jawbones looked split not from force, but from mutation, is how she identified it. Otherwise, the scene looked to be at least a day old, not from tonight.
Scarlett knew that the infected didn’t eat that cleanly, that... thoroughly. They always left graphic remains for something to gnaw on later. Additionally, she could tell that even the Volatiles were on edge. Not every sound they heard was a potential meal, and they acted like it too.
This ultimately helped her, that moment of hesitation from them, trying to determine if the noise meant they were predator or prey. It gave her a precious extra second or two to slip away. So Crane’s lingering presence was a boon for her, and for the time being, she tried to keep thinking of it that way.
Unfortunately, because she was hiding and scurrying in the shadows or along rooftops, she didn’t pay much mind to things like her posture or body language. For the infected, it didn’t matter, as the main and only goal was simply to not be seen at all. This means she found herself cowering in corners, against cars and behind dumpsters fairly often, trembling as a Volatile or Viral would be sniffing her previous hiding spot before she found the opportunity to slip away.
At the mark of three hours since leaving the Tower, Crane wasn’t even on her mind at all now. Instead, she only felt frustration from having not spotted any supply drops yet. Where could they all be at? Did she just keep missing them?
Scarlett hated being out here for so long with nothing to show for it. All she found was a safehouse over a chainlink fence in the form of an old gas station. She didn’t go inside, but she did make note of it for later. The Tower expected runners out at night to return in the morning after spending the remaining hours in some dusty old cot. It wasn’t ideal, but it was safer than trying to make their way all the way back to the Tower itself.
The woman had to resist kicking a can out of her lingering frustration, right as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Scarlett then froze on the spot, even though she wasn’t quite sure why, not right away that is. What was that feeling?
Silence surrounded her, not even a distant Volatile howl, or a Viral’s screech dared to break it. The silence was… unsettling, somehow more so than all of the usual horrible noises she was used to hearing now. Silence in Harran was rare, but it had come like a heavy blanket over the night. It was as if the city was holding its breath, less they awaken a slumbering horror.
That’s when realization hit her, and Scarlett’s breathing hitched as she uncovered the answer to her prickling nerves. The terror that the city feared to stir had already woken up, and she couldn’t shake off the goosebumps. That’s when the Quartermaster’s words echoed in her mind, and her heart sank upon putting the pieces together.
The Beast Runner was watching her.
Scarlett shuddered involuntarily, just as she realized that she was holding herself in the exact way that she was told not to do. Her legs were bent like she wanted to cower in a hole, with her arms crossed over her chest, as if to protect her heart and lungs, while her shoulders were drawn in and hunched. She must have looked incredibly small, even more than she usually did.
It was difficult to juggle between worrying about that, and still remaining unseen from the infected though. They were quiet, but they still lurked, as if some of them hoped to snatch a runner away before Crane noticed.
The woman tried to urge herself to keep walking, and eventually, she did. Even as her arms trembled against her torso, fingers digging into her own skin just enough to hurt but not draw blood.
Scarlett felt paranoid as her gaze snapped up towards the rooftops. She was walking on the street, because she saw Volatiles up on the rooftops and dropped down among the cars to evade them. However, she now wished that she was back up there, she’d feel less like a trapped rat in a maze of alleyways and vehicles.
Her eyes rapidly darted around different nooks, shapes and ledges, as if she was actively hoping to spot something out of place. Yet it was all unsettlingly… normal. She expected to see a massive shadow with a singular red eye glaring down at her, but there was nothing. Even as it felt like the very air around her shifted to accommodate the presence of something bigger than a Volatile.
Where was he? Was he even actually watching her, or was she just becoming truly paranoid, instead of just feeling like it? If he wasn’t here, why did the infected become so quiet? Her thoughts swam in a vicious circle, threatening to give her a headache if she didn’t stop soon. She also couldn’t forget the threats on the street level, the ones that wouldn’t stop at just watching-.
A Volatile shrieked in hungry rage off to her left. It was close, too close. It wasn’t a coincidence, it saw her.
Scarlett took off running before she could consider doing or thinking about anything else. If it caused Crane to give chase too, she’d deal with that as it came. A Volatile could not be reasoned with, but Crane potentially could be.
Her legs sprung into action, half training, half instinct, as she dashed between cars, climbing over the hoods of lower ones, and rounding a bend. The Volatile was right behind her though, she could smell its rotting, disgusting odor and heard its boney, bloody claws scraping against metal and concrete.
She trained for this though, Rahim showed her what to do in these situations, and she dug for those memories.
The first thing to remember was that the Volatiles always had more stamina than a human did. The second was that the longer one ran, the more likely you’d catch the attention of Virals and more Volatiles. Thus, her best options were to break line of sight as quickly as possible, or head to the nearest safehouse, potentially both. The UV lights will keep them away, and they’ll eventually move on.
Scarlett held onto this training, and made breaking line of sight priority number one. At the back of her mind, she hoped Crane wouldn’t appear and make things more difficult, but for now, for her own sake, she had to assume he wasn’t even here.
As she ran, her empty backpack and her bow swung left and right from her stride, but she gripped the bowstring with one hand to help steady it a little better, while leaving the pack to do as it will. It didn’t hurt, and felt largely weightless against the rush of adrenaline surging through her body. Behind her, the Volatile loped along in pursuit, its movements unstable, wrong, threatening to trip but not quite doing so, having just enough predatory agility to not make such a rookie mistake.
Thankfully it only took a few blocks to break line of sight, giving her precious seconds to slide under a car to hide. Scarlett bit back a hiss as her skin scraped roughly across concrete, but she ignored it, and focused on quickly settling herself before growing still, laying flat on her stomach, arms crossed in front of her.
The second that Scarlett found herself settled in her new hiding spot, she heard the footsteps of her pursuer approaching from around the same bend, with that dreadful yet all too familiar clicking noises of a Volatile seeking its potential prey and attempting to learn where she could have gone.
Fear wanted her to whimper, to even cry or curse her misfortune of having not even seen a supply drop before having to hide for her life. But instead of doing any of that, Scarlett focused on controlling her breathing, keeping it shallow and soft, even as her heart fluttered in her chest like it wanted to escape her ribs. It didn’t matter though, she had to remain quiet, any noise would alert it to her presence.
However, she couldn’t stay here forever, not under this car that is. It would follow her scent trail eventually, she could see it even now, if she peeked around one of the tires just right. She could see its twitchy, confused movements, its flayed-open ribs flexing, fingers curled with claws of bloody bone, and the ragged, uneven yet hungry growls that it made.
If she could wait for a time for where it was looking elsewhere, she might be able to roll out from under here and slip away. She wasn’t quite sure exactly where to go yet, but she had been managing so far by just figuring it out as she went along. It probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, but she just needed one supply crate, that’s all. Then she could go back to the Tower with her limbs still attached.
Seconds ticked by, the Volatile was still seeking, but she could see it was suddenly on edge. The twitching got worse, and every so often, it’d look up, like it was remembering that something could pounce upon it too, if it wasn’t careful. In fact, Scarlett tilted her head as she watched it sniff the air, instead of where she was, and that’s when she felt it.
That presence again, the one that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end, and goosebumps to form on her arms. Instinctively and without her permission, Scarlett withdrew into herself even further, causing her to feel smaller as she silently shuddered, and now held her breath entirely.
Then she heard a metallic scrape, like claws against a railing. Scarlett had to bite back the yelp that tried to escape her from it, just as she felt dread settle in the pit of her stomach when she realized something...
That scrape wasn’t the sound of something climbing. It was deliberate, meant to draw attention. It was so quiet that the Volatile didn’t even look towards it, which meant...
It meant that it was for her.
The noise came from somewhere behind her, deeper in the alleyway, away from the Volatile. That part was probably intentional too, but was she supposed to look? Should she look? Half the stories about Crane spoke of him helping runners as much as consuming them, and even some of those, as bizarre as it sounded, was kind of... both.
The scrape came again, a tiny bit louder this time, and Scarlett got the distinct impression that he was getting impatient.
She was trembling again, and she felt her fear finally reach her face as tears were threatening to form. She could feel them coming seconds before it actually happened, though it didn’t mean she could actually stop it.
The instinctual survival instinct of fight, flight, or freeze was overtaking her, and currently, freezing was winning. She knew it was foolish though, no matter how much she wanted to just hide here and cry, it was the childish response. It was no different than hiding under the bed, waiting for the monster to find her. In this case, one of two monsters/
Additionally, he already knew she was here, so who was she fooling?
A growl sounded out next, deep and guttural, but it wasn’t ragged or hollow like the Volatile. It was... Healthy, if such a thing made sense. The vibration echoed off the walls of the alleyway and nestled itself into her bones, urging her to move, to look towards the source.
The Volatile heard it too, and it actually froze as if out of fear, or as much as it could. It still twitched, like its body was constantly on the verge of going into spasm.
She had to look, it was clear that Crane wanted her to, and pissing him off didn’t sound like a good idea.
Fighting, and failing, to fight off her violent trembling, Scarlett finally flipped herself around under the car to look out towards the source of the growling and scratching, and spotted something she didn’t expect.
Instead of a looming beast watching her with hungry intent, she just saw... a light. A UV light in specific, a cold blue glow that faintly flickered, but still acted as a beacon for a runner’s most valuable resource. A safehouse. Crane wasn’t trying to scare her for fun, he was trying to show her the safehouse, he was helping.
Scarlett’s heart fluttered with something that resembled hope, or relief, or something like it. She didn’t have the time to identify it, because it was stamped out almost as quickly as it came when a heavy, terrifying weight landed behind her, towards the front of the car, between her and the Volatile.
She couldn’t stop the frightened cry that tore its way from her throat, a noise that probably sounded delicious to everything that heard it.
“Go, run! To that safehouse!” A gruff male voice ordered in a way that sounded halfway to a growl in itself, and far too big to be that of an ordinary man. The words alone sounded big enough to engulf her, and it was the first time Crane had ever even spoken to her.
She didn’t actually see him, not beyond seeing his legs from under the car, spotting those stitched together pants that he had, the cuffs stained in who-knows-what, probably a lot of things she didn’t want to know.
The Volatile shrieked in a noise that sounded like fear, which was an incredibly bizarre thing to hear, so much so that she couldn’t even find any comfort in it to see a nightmare become the haunted. Instead, she just listened to Crane, finally, and rolled out from under the car, fingers scraping against concrete again as she scrambled upright.
Then she finally did see him, looming there, towering taller than the Volatile who hissed at him, not fleeing, but like it was debating about whether it was worth trying to evade him to get to her. It clearly hadn’t seen what The Beast Runner did to the last of its kind.
Crane’s back was turned to her, but she saw how his hands and fingers were dark with something, probably blood, and he had even more rips in his coat than she ever saw him have before. It revealed the coiled tension in his shoulders, like a bear trap ready to snap someone’s leg off.
Scarlett found herself frozen in place again, despite her mind screaming at her to move. Crane seemed to notice the lack of pitter pattering runner feet and turned his head towards her, glaring at her with one visible eye. It was the red one, gleaming unmistakably now, filled with intelligence, annoyance, and... Hunger.
The look stole her breath, her legs didn’t want to work, they barely wanted to stand, and it took all her strength not to let them buckle out from under her.
Crane’s upper lip was curled in a small, silent snarl, and she expected him to snap at her again to run. It possibly would have worked, maybe, but that’s not what he did. Instead, he eyed her frozen form, and realization struck him, a surprisingly human expression. Yet what came next would likely haunt her dreams, assuming she survived this.
He relaxed his silent snarl into a smirk, then licked his lower lip, subtly, but only on the side of his mouth that she could see. It was deliberate, almost taunting, he wanted her to see it, and the worst part was that she could hear it too. She could hear the wetness of saliva, presenting her a choice.
Run, or be devoured.
She chose the former.
Scarlett let out a frightened cry before whirling around so fast that she almost fell over. She could have sworn that she heard Crane chuckle behind her from this too. A deep, quiet but rumbling sound that was half man, half beast.
She also heard the two predators clash. The second she started running, the Volatile howled and possibly leapt, but Crane caught it, and they wrestled. She didn’t dare look back, and instead she jumped up as high as her legs could spring, and she reached up to grab the balcony railing, wincing as her softer skin was cut into by sharp ruts carved into the bar. She only had to adjust them slightly for her slender fingers to fit into the gaps of torn metal with terrifying ease.
Claw marks, they were claw marks, so big that whatever left them could easily tear her head off with a single swipe. That realization surged her onward, scrambling up the railing with raw desperation and fear.
Behind her, she heard growls, snarls, the snapping of jaws and ripping of flesh, even bone crushing under severe pressure. It all made her stomach twist into knots. But judging by the sudden cutoff of the Volatile’s hiss with a sickening crunch, she knew who won, and it was over before she even passed the safehouse threshold. It proved just how fast it could happen to a runner, if Crane could dispatch a Volatile that quickly.
She didn’t stop, she didn’t look or hesitate, she just dashed into the safehouse, tripping over her own feet but having just enough agility to not fall down. Only once she passed the UV light standing guard and was surrounded by secure walls and boarded up windows did she stop long enough to draw in a breath, then saw bedding on the ground.
Exhaustion nipped at her entire body, weighing her down like a ball and chain that was shackled to her ankles. She needed rest, she had been running, hiding and stressing for over three hours straight. She needed a moment to breathe without fear of claws and teeth descending down upon her.
Thus Scarlett collapsed upon the mattress without a second thought, even as she stumbled over a blanket and other bedding strewn about. The second her body was supported by that thin old, yet comfortingly warm mattress did she finally exhale, letting her eyes close. Which proved to be a mistake.
That image flashed in her mind again, the way Crane smirked before so deliberately licking his lips at her, it made her heart stutter just thinking about it. People did say that even when he was human though, Crane could be a bit of a bastard with a dark sense of humor. Maybe... maybe that’s all it was, he had to have been aware of the stories and rumors surrounding him after all, and he did help her otherwise.
Thus Scarlett tried to tell herself that it was just a dark taunt to get her to move again, instead of just growling or snapping at her. Unfortunately, she would have preferred him to do those other things, it wouldn’t have carved such a haunting image in her mind.
At least she was finally warm though, she didn’t realize the nightly chill that settled in her bones. Though, she furrowed her brow when she realized something was a bit... strange, about this warmth seeping from the mattress. It was comfortable, almost perfect, which is what made it strange, because as she opened her eyes again to look around, there was no heater.
It also smelled strange. Not bad, just… different. Describing it was hard, but the first word that came to her mind was... Like leather, even though there was none around. The other part of the smell was earthy, not like gross dirt and grime, but something natural, like soil in a garden.
“Weird...” She murmured under her breath, before she shifted to sit up a little, despite how much her body wanted to stay put. She never actually looked around the safehouse, so she decided to flick on her flashlight, as the UV was kind of dim and only covered the entrance.
Supplies were neatly stacked nearby with military-level precision, not an unusual sight. Lots of older runners were ex military, and this place easily could have been set up by one such person. But as her flashlight scanned around a bit more, her heart plummeted to the floor when she noticed one glaringly strange detail that she had never seen before, and somehow didn’t notice upon entry.
The blankets, the curtains, some discarded clothes, bedsheets, some tattered pillows, this mattress, and even towels. Literally every scrap of cloth someone could find, it was all arranged around her in... in a circle. Neatly tucked and woven together like how a bird would... Well, would build a nest.
“Oh god...” Scarlett breathed in horror, scanning the flashlight around her to take in the sheer size of the circle, and the divot intentionally made for something far, far bigger than she was.
The divot that she was currently nestled in the center of, like a baby bird in a nest built for something bigger... Because it was.
The scent was stronger now, or more noticeable maybe. The smell of leather, fresh soil and sweat mixed together alongside the lingering warmth of a bed recently vacated. This wasn’t just a safehouse, this is where Crane was just resting at, and now she was here like Goldilocks.
Scarlett shuddered in place, before shifting with discomfort and uncertainty. Well, discomfort wasn't really the right word, the... nest, was actually absurdly comfortable. It probably shouldn't have been, but a part of her felt that it was. Still, she shouldn't be here, right? It seemed crazy to not be running out of here, yet she really didn't want to face him again either. Although he must know that she's here, he directed her to this safehouse, and it seems unwise to stick around until he got through with the Volatile. He would undoubtedly come back for one reason or-
Claws, scraping against the wall outside, she heard it. They were quiet, faint, but deliberately meant to be heard. He was right outside, though she had no windows that weren't boarded up to see through. She did, however, hear deep breathing behind her, where the claw noise came from.