Silent Hill Fic 'Your Dark God'
The second one I wrote, after actually beginning to play the game.
Still PH/James, but more like slash hints. XP
Title: Your Dark God
Author: Chaosdreamer (dreamerchaos)
Warning: Slash hints, gore, horror, AU. Hard R for violence.
Pairing: Pyramid Head/James
Disclaimer: Silent Hill is owned and copyrighted by others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys.
Author's note: Well, I've made it as far as the Apartment Complex and have run into Pyramid Head several times. I also attained a thorough walkthrough of the game (haven't read ahead beyond the characters Maria, Eddie, and Laura, though XD) I will be using the walkthrough to try to help me with the layout of the town and hopefully I'll provide adequate description of the appropriate buildings. If not, I apologize.
Warning: Definitely bit of gore. Death of one or more minor character. Harshness. Pyramid Head being rough. (hitting James, dragging, etc.) Dark, one of my darkest pieces.
Alternate Universe: Just my thoughts on how the scene in Room 307 could have gone differently. Also, I read a plot analysis of Silent Hill 2 (as far along as I am) and about the power and presence of Alessa, curious about the part she plays and how I can work with that. At the same time, I have an inkling to make Pyramid Head seem a more worthy and stronger foe, even if it may be incorrect to the fandom's conclusion. Again, I'm only to the Apartment Complex so far in the game so any mistakes are my fault entirely. But I stumbled across Mary's fate during one of my fic readings. That could be a good or bad thing, depending.
Dedication: To the Silent Hill fans who make this fandom breathlessly wonderful and so new. For making it real, even when stained with the brutality and anger that resides in the world of Alessa and Silent Hill. To those who pushed me to keep going in this fandom even when I was tempted to fade away into the background. Many thanks.
Author's Note: I know that Pyramid Head doesn't speak in the game. At best, I think the most he could manage would be to speak verbally if the helmet was off, etc. Or at the very least, somehow be able to speak telepathically, maybe?
'…….': Thoughts
"……": Speech
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Even though he could barely see through the rotten wood slates of the closet door, James still was able to prevent himself from reacting physical to the violent struggle occurring before his eyes. He cringed and clamped his eyes shut so that he didn't have to watch the mannequins being torn into and ripped apart. A series of crackling pops and twisting grind of bone against cartilage was a nauseating symphony of horror that tested his endurance. Blood misted through the small space in the kitchen and fell to the floor in a hushed fall and soft breathless sigh like rain.
Two wet and heavy thuds of meat signaled the shredded portions of the last mannequin falling to the stained and blood-covered floor. He hoped that the mannequins' deaths had been quick, but was fairly certain that the blood and butchery had begun to be carried out long before he had entered the room and stumbled across a blood bath. James' eyes hesitated before flickering open already able to envision in his mind a muted version of the damage and ruin that was left in the apartment. The pyramid creature that had ripped the disfigured female demons apart stood over the carnage with his apron soaked with matted bloody bits and dripping down into red puddles under his boots and latex gloves stretched tight over clenched fists. He seemed to be examining his bloody work, the large helmet tilting from side to side as if counting the pieces that were left.
One hand was clamped over his mouth and nose to keep from making any audible sounds of distress and fear. The stench of the torn bodies was horrid, thick and putrid worse than an overused outhouse during a hot summer day. James' stomach seized up instinctively and acid stung in his throat forcing him to swallow desperately to force the hard burning knot back down.
This creature, he was obviously on an entirely different level from the other demons James had previously encountered.
The armless and twisting things that wandered the street were slow, but at their very worst they slithered like serpents doped up on speed when knocked to the ground moving and snaking at an alarming speed chasing after James. He had finally resorted to shoving and pushing the ones on the street aside as he ran past leaving them in his dust while he desperately searched for some sort of sanctuary from the nightmare world that was coming to life all around him. He did this while giving his best effort at ignoring the ache and burn in his lungs while avoiding slipping through the broad stretches of cooling blood upon the streets that had been left by a body being dragged across the pavement. The radio had been a blessing in disguise, providing a split-second warning of danger as the creatures would sudden appear and pitch themselves in his direction out of the fog and spraying acid from the gaping opening in their chests.
By sheer luck, he had stumbled across the corpse of someone…or something… at the dead-end of that alley. The body was left propped and leaning against the alley's fence as if the individual had fallen into sudden slumber. But no one could possibly sleep through having their skin flayed off of their bodies or chunks of meat ripped off. James had offered a small apology to the individual as he searched the putrid remains of their clothing, trying to find something he could use. He found the key to the Apartment Complex and made a mad dash to what he had thought would be a safe haven.
His luck failed him then. The radio he had acquired hissed wildly when he found his way to the first floor hallways, groping through the heavy darkness and finding locked doors outside of the safety of the scarce light bulbs upon the walls. He had almost run right into another one of those things from outside, ducking out of the way of the acid spray. Making a break for the stairs James had wandered and searched the rooms, through the garbage, cluttered chaos, and darkness until he had found first a handgun. Then a little girl that seemed to have some sort of vendetta against him since she had stomped his hands through the bars on the third floor, kicking away the key he had been reaching for. A working flashlight had been left upon the breast of a dressed mannequin the outfit strikingly similar to Mary's surrounded by the halo of soft white light streaming from the small flashlight.
He had run from the room even before the first mannequin creature had darted out of the shadows, instinctively reacting to the slowly enclosing scuffle of noise that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Continuing his search he had wandered into another room and found a key to one of the rooms back on the first floor, but not before seeing the pyramid demon for the first time through the bars at the end of the hallway. The red glow that has surrounded the demon pulsed and burned like it was fire-hot. He had ducked into the nearest room, only to be greeted by a corpse sitting in a lone chair in front of a flickering TV set that was caked across one corner with blood, the same room where he found the key to the first story room.
James had followed the trail and clues no matter how bewildering they were, resisting the urge to kick the old grandfather clock as he attempted to work out the riddle etched into its side. Finally an audible click signaled his success and he was able to move into the room through the open doorway hidden behind the large clock.
After all that effort, all that work, he had finally left the room and had gone up the stairs to the third floor. Ending up in Room 307… and stunned speechless by the sight of the two mannequins being mercilessly attacked and slammed around within the kitchen directly connected to the main room.
He knew, James KNEW that he would be spotted if he attempted to make for the door again no matter how close his fingertips were to touching the door handle. His only option was to retreat into the nearest hidden space. The closet. Thankfully, the rotten wood and rusted hinges had made barely any noise as he closed it behind him.
The only problem from that moment on was that there was only one way in, and one way out.
There was nothing in the small space that would help him other than a key left on a lone shelf. His handgun had some bullets, but James was pretty certain that the best he would manage would be to just piss the thing off if he dared to fire the gun.
Still the handgun offered him a minimal amount of comfort, the cold metal a firm and solid weight in his hands providing him with an equally physical and mental anchor.
The pyramid shaped helmet rose and turned in the direction of the closet door, like he could sense the indecision and direction of James' thoughts.
It couldn't be. James hadn't made a sound. He hadn't even cocked the gun.
'…shit….' James could barely think of any other word to describe how badly the situation had turned.
As ineffective as it was James shuffled back further into the closet and pressed his back flat against the farthest wall from the door. Foolishly wishing that something else in the general direction of the closet had caught the demon's attention. If the demon figured out that there was new prey very close by, then James had little that he could do since he had inadvertently cornered himself.
The demon rose up from a half-crouch from among the gore and blood, taking slow and steady steps in the direction of the sealed closet door. Each step was slow and methodical the heels of his boots made wet squelches and rippling slaps through the spreading puddles of blood. Too soon for James he was standing outside of the small space, latex covered hands laying palm-flat along the rough door causing the thin portal to creak under the firm press and solid weight. Fingers tapped in a slow and unhurried pace along the wood's surface like the fingertips were seeking out any imperfection or weakness and trying to sense the alluring heat of a human body hiding so close by.
Time stretched on, James' hands growing clammy as he waited to see what would happen next. He was too afraid to breathe deeply half fearing that that alone would cause the massive helmet to jerk up and peer through the wood slates directly at him. When the finger taps ceased and the hands pulled back a ways, James thought that the demon had sensed that there was nothing to his interest and was preparing to move away.
His last thought was extinguished by the crack and thunder of breaking wood as the hands shoved forward and through the door, cracking and tearing the door off of its hinges and shoving the broken pieces inward into the small interior of the closet.
James shielded his head and face with his arms, hands crossed in front of him as shards of wood flew at him. Sharp pain shot through the limbs and palms as rough broken wood scrapped and smashed into him. A heavy gasp was shoved from his chest as a large piece of wood smacked into his abdomen physically knocking him forward flat against the wall. His face stung from where a few shards of wood had grazed close scratching his cheeks and chin.
A hard grip that matched steel closed over his wrists that were crossed over his forehead. James lurched forward and was pulled off of his feet and onto his knees. He cried out while the fabric of his pants did little to stop the burn as he was dragged roughly out of the closet. He fell onto his side hanging limp meanwhile his arms strained from the painful angle they were being pulled back over his head.
His world rocked and flipped and with a hard forward jerking motion that left the world spinning the demon literally lifted the man throwing James across the room towards what was left of the two mannequins. He slid and rolled across the gore stained floor limbs and body smashing hard and breaking his fall.
James' head bounced off of the wood floor beams and stars and lightning sprang along the surface of the damp wood underneath already scratched hands. Glass shards stung his hands when the flashlight that had been attached to the lapel of his green jacket shattered from the sharp impact. Dizzily James' body jolted once when hitting the floor, and the handgun was shaken free from the shocking blow and spun across the floor to disappear among the thick piles of meat and limbs. By some odd chance, the radio wasn't smashed to pieces, but the switch was forced in the 'OFF' direction.
James didn't really notice the wellbeing of the radio, instead trying to dispel the bouncing blobs of color that danced across his eyes. The ends of James' hair spread across the pools of blood, the front of his shirt and pants quickly darkening to crimson. His breath shuddered and gasped against his forearm that kept him propped up far enough from landing face-first into even more spreading fluids. He was dangerously close to slipping and falling completely into the organs and meat smeared beneath him, dead flesh jiggling, brushing close to his hands.
James jerked back when his eyes fell upon the twisted end of a hip bone not far from his face that was connected to pasty flesh and the limb that was already beginning to stiffen and lock in place. He tried to shuffle as best as he could far enough away from the bloody chunk.
A harsh glide of boots walking steadily towards him caught his attention, James turned partially to peer over his shoulder at the approaching figure.
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Pyramid Head's POV
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To think that James really thought that he could hide from him.
The notion of something so mundane actually working disgusted him. While he may have been focused more upon the writhing demons underneath him that attempted to twist away to try to escape from his fury, he did not miss the rabbit-fast beating of a human heartbeat close by. His hands had snapped and ripped the limbs apart, the blood spraying across his front like a torrential waterfall, cooling his rage and destruction for a moment.
It had been nearly exhilarating to slowly approach the small space where the man hid, listening as the heartbeat quickened, muffled breathing escalated to a lengthy crescendo that stretched forever.
When his hands pressed along the wood of the door, he didn't have to bother peering through the rotten slates to see the man inside. The tips of his fingers and the palm of his hands soaked in the pulsing heat that surrounded the man, a living breathing force that throbbed and beat with life, calling to him.
'HAVE YOU ANY IDEA, JAMES?' He wondered. 'HAVE YOU ANY IDEA THAT YOU CAN'T ESCAPE? HOW YOU CALL TO ME.'
The relationship between the two of them was as old as the sanctuary of a mother's womb but at the same time as fresh as a newborn. It was what had made them what they were, the thing that tied them together was soaked with ill intent and lack of knowledge of the possibilities, the power that was innate and curled deep inside. The Calling; always there but just waiting for that one moment of strength to summon the shadow from within but weak enough for the counterpart to punch and rip its way out of the cage that had sealed it away. The power to throw down angels and the ability to give a demon wings. Humans were the ones who created and destroyed worlds, an example being the one known as Alessa.
Her pain and anger had poisoned her, turned the power inside of her more viscous, more rancid than any that had come before. The power, the potential within that become diseased and festered while giving Alessa the power to bring to life her darkest dreams. Alessa had believed that her anger and wrath had made her into a god. She believed that she created Silent Hill and the many other realms and plains. She claimed Silent Hill as her own personal world. Her Hell.
She was not the first, nor would she be the last. All that she had done was open the door that had always been there. Opened to door to those that had waited so long for an entity powerful enough, fierce in body and presence that they could tear the door off of its hinges and allow for another world to break across that breach. The seam that had separated the worlds was no longer solid, becoming a mere trickling stream to cross rather than the unending bottomless ocean.
No. Alessa was no god. At least not his god. If he had to say that one being was his god, then he would be forced to admit that it was James.
James. The one responsible for giving life to him. They were on opposite sides of the mirror too similar to be differentiated, separated only by the mechanisms turning and rolling inside of their heads.
So then what was James to him?
A father? A brother? Lover? Was there anything that bound them together?
Was he nothing but a stray thought? Just a simple mistake?
They were both totally different. They were exactly the same.
How that thought made him rage and want to tear the man into strips of meat and bone.
How it made him want to chain the man and hide him far and deep where only he could see and touch him.
'IS THIS A COMMON THING?' He thought this as he tore through the door, finally seeing the man as he shielded his face from the flying debris as it crashed around him. 'DO THE CREATIONS EQUALLY HATE AND LOVE THEIR CREATOR? LET ME LOOK UPON YOU AND SEE JUST WHO YOU REALLY ARE.'
……
James Sunderland.
Husband.
Widow.
…Murderer.
His hands closed over the convenient handle that James' wrists offered. A low snarl trickled from his lips as his fingers tightened over wrists that were smaller, weaker than his own. He could snap and crack them open with hardly any effort. Pierce James' flesh with the ragged ends of his own bones just by tightening a hand and yanking hard enough to the side.
'YOU BECAME A MURDERER WITH THESE HANDS. THESE HANDS, WERE THEY THE ONES THAT SHAPED ME INTO WHAT I AM?' He asked himself.
'I COULD BREAK THEM. I COULD BREAK YOU. YOU ARE WEAK. I CAN DENOUNCE YOU AND OVERTHROW YOU. I COULD KILL YOU, EVEN IF YOU ARE MY "GOD".'
'SO WHY HAVEN'T I?'
It was a bittersweet victory to hurl that smaller form away and watching James smash into the ground. His body bounced like a rag doll, face buried against his arm as he fell among the gore and gristle. He caught the clatter of the handgun as it flew across the floor and the shine of the glass shards that symbolized the damaged state of the man's only light source. Symbolizing his fall from grace without the light to guide him.
'BEHOLD.' He wanted to laugh at James' predicament. 'THE LIGHT ABANDONS YOU. AND NOW, YOU KNOW ONLY THE DARKNESS.'
The blood was spilling across and tainting James' clothing, sullying the relatively clean and neat pants, shirt, and jacket. James cringed back from a shattered limb of one of the mannequins that lay close to his face. His hands slipped along the thick streaks of fluid as he attempted to rise to his knees. Hearing the demon slowly approaching him, James turned partially, looking over his shoulder with fear-filled eyes. His body was visibly shaking, the tips of his hair dyed crimson from being dragged through the gore.
A strangely alluring and poignant sight that made something inside curl and flex with rising interest. 'YOU ARE AN ATTRACTIVE MAN, JAMES. BUT YOU ARE ALMOST BEAUTIFUL IN THIS MOMENT, WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME WITH SUCH FEAR BUT ALSO SUCH OBSTINACY, EVEN IF YOU ARE COVERED IN BLOOD.' He couldn't help but acknowledge.
Indeed while James was clearly afraid, eyes shining with the fear, they also hardened and his lips tightened seemingly to avoid making any sound of distress for the demon to gloat over.
He barely made a sound even when the demon's hand fell and circled his throat. A short grimace of pain marred his face as he was again lifted bodily up off of his feet wheezing as the hand encircling his neck so quickly cut away his air. Smaller hands closed over the larger wrist connected to the hand that was slowly strangling him, squeezing as if he had any hope of tugging the punishing grip away.
But it was in vain. James was no match for the strength that lay within the demon.
With several large steps, he was standing in the same area where he had carried out his attack on the two mannequins. A rough shove and James was forced into a sitting position on top of the counter. The man banged his head against the small cabinet as he instinctively jerked back and away from the hand that fell slowly away from his throat. James coughed brokenly, swallowing around the soreness from the sharp grip that had been removed from his windpipe.
His hand did not travel too far from James. Grabbing a thick handful of shirt and open jacket he forced the man to sit still until they were pressed chest to chest. He couldn't help but grin at the look on James' face as the bulk of his body forced its way between James' knees so that he was trapped close and tight with nowhere to go.
James shoved at his shoulders, twisting his head away from the pyramid helmet that hovered so close above his forehead. In silent warning his hands fell to clench around the top of James' thighs, the threat left unsaid between them.
'YOU KNOW I COULD DO IT. I COULD RIP YOUR LIMBS APART, JUST LIKE I DID TO THOSE TWO. BUT THE QUESTION IS, WILL I?'
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'I won't scream…I won't beg…I won't…I…' James' internal mantra was failing to offer any comfort. He was shaking so violently that the hands that lay over the top of his knees were the primary forces that kept him from spilling into a useless heap onto the kitchen floor.
He was also shaking from the cooling temperature of the blood that was pressing and trickling across his skin, pushing its way through his clothing. His neck itched from the thin tendrils of red that slid down from damp strands of hair. He couldn't shift in discomfort to try to shake or wipe the unsettling moisture away, his body too stiff from being thrown across the room.
'I hurt all over…' James' body was aching from the attack in the closet, the numerous scratches stinging from the contact of blood along open wounds. Chest and shoulders ached from being used as a cushion when he had slammed into the floor. His head….it felt like someone was using a hammer along the inside of his brain cavity.
There had been no mercy in the attack, not that James had expected any. Pyramid Head drove into him with punishing brutality, James fearfully that he would end up as a lone smear across the floor by the time the demon was through beating and breaking him down.
'What the hell is he?' He thought numbly. 'Some kind of curse, something that's sole purpose is to torture me?'
The shoulders that his hands were pushing against may as well be made of brick since Pyramid Head was not budging an inch away from him. His body was pressed close to James, but loose like the smaller man's struggles were as weak as a fly's.
'I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared. Am I going to die here? No. I've made it this far already, just to end up trapped here and used as a punching bag.'
'Mary.'
'Mary, if it's true that it ends here, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to make it and to find you.'
James stilled his struggles, accepting how pointless they were becoming. Both of his hands fell away from Pyramid Head's shoulders to rest at his sides. He hissed as they pressed against the cold tile, cuts stinging from the icy contact. His head felt suddenly too heavy for his neck to hold. It fell back so that he was peering up at the helmet that masked his attacker, somehow able to sense where the eyes were that obviously watched his actions.
"Do it…Just do whatever you're going to do, then. I can't stop you." James admitted. He felt like he was daring the demon to finish off the job. Perhaps goading him would make James' death much swifter then it had been previously intended. Any small victory on his part he would gladly take with him to the grave.
He didn't want to see what Pyramid Head's response would be. Closing his eyes, for what he believed would be the final time, James hung onto the hope that perhaps if he were fortunate enough, he may find some way to once again be given the chance to search for his wife in another life or time.
It was the only hope that seemed worth holding onto.
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Pyramid Head's POV
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When James' eyes fell shut after the man's dare, he felt such rage, such fury that he could have and was resisting the temptation of snapping the man's neck. He resisted it, though, knowing that such level of damage would bring him little.
The fool. Did he really think he could goad him? Him? The Red Pyramid?
Apparently.
He let the silence and the stillness hang around them, letting the tension and the moment build.
Allowing himself time to scoff at what James was obviously doing.
'TRYING TO ENVISION YOUR DEAD WIFE, JAMES? HOW LITTLE YOU KNOW. THE DISEASE STARTED HER PAIN, BUT YOU ENDED IT. WOULD OTHERS DESCRIBE YOU AS HER SAVIOR, OR HER EXECUTIONER? AND GUESS WHERE THAT LEAVES THE TWO OF US?'
His role was obvious. He was James' judge and punishment. He knew that from the beginning, before he ever laid eyes on the man. He had been born for him.
That gave him a great deal of power over him. And that presented him with so many possibilities.
It would be too easy, really. To beat James into bloody and ragged pulp. To kill him. To assault him in mind and body. But it was far too anti-climatic and seemed too degrading for the individual who was responsible for his being. James had BELIEVED, and thus, Pyramid Head had come to life. He had a purpose that revolved, surrounding James like a circling predator.
It all came back to James. James, who believed that he deserved to be punished for his deed, even though he had repressed what exactly he was being punished for.
Personally, he couldn't care less for punishing James for ending his wife's life. As brutal of a thought that it was, the disease would have killed her ultimately. It would have been long and painful, and Mary would have most definitely have hated James for allowing her to suffer in such a way.
So, why was Mary calling for James, haunting him even when she was gone? Because James wanted to also believe that there was a chance that, his wife was alive and whole. He wanted her, felt that he couldn't live without her. Too afraid to live for himself but too afraid to die, all because of the memory of his wife.
If only he knew what she had become.
She didn't want to punish James because he had given her a swifter and less painful death. She wanted to punish James because he thought he deserved her wrath. He was willing to play the martyr for her. Even though it had been her in the hospital who had screamed at him to leave her alone, to get out and to get away from her.
James punished himself far more than anyone else could.
So, why did he want to be the one to punish James since he ignored the one thing that James was guilty of?
Because he could.
Because he had the power to.
Because he was selfish, and perhaps the punishment would make James wake up to the fact that now, he would never escape from the hell he had created. That he had shaped the world of Silent Hill. He had created the Red Pyramid, unintentionally, irreversibly. But at the same time that birth had brought with it great power that the Red Pyramid was willing to use on what he saw fit.
Whether James was his god or not, ultimately James was his, as he was James'.
And now that James had fallen, and could not find the strength to rise again…
How could he not want to pounce upon that opportunity and hold it tightly to him?
To claim the One that had finally come and awakened them. The One that would never leave this town and would be bound in this limbo for all eternity trapped by the force of his own creation and power. Like Alessa, but with far more naiveté regarding his role in the world and far more desirable than that harpy could ever be.
Oh, he was a Monster to think and dream of such things. But he already knew that. The humans who hissed at and condemned such intentions and darkness were reacting towards their fears and the wickedness that was already spreading its seeds inside of their own souls since the moment they looked at the world with open eyes. Innocence was an illusion, a short dream that passed by in the flick of an eye. The only ones who could claim any vestige of innocence were infants and children. But they would grow up and out of that fantasy time and life.
His hands were opening and closing, clenching and unclenching as he settled deep in thought. Really, what could he do? There were so many possibilities, but there were as many consequences that he didn't have the desire or patience to contend with.
For one thing: he did not want to drive James to insanity. A babbling and drooling fool was an eyesore and a symbol of his lack of control for allowing permanent damage to be left behind. It would be better just to end such humiliation with the twist of a hand before it started.
To avoid that, he would have to reconsider some things.
Punishment could not be ignored. By the rules of this world and by that…woman…whatever she had now become…Alessa…James had to pay some price. Every action had a reaction. That was the primary law.
But was there a chance that a punishment existed so that James would be unable to run away from Silent Hill. He didn't need to want to stay here, in this limbo, with him. Not initially, at least.
There was the same small dilemma that kept his mind running in circles. What was the appropriate punishment? What would truly make James break but also keep him whole?
It suddenly struck him, so suddenly that for a moment he felt like a complete imbecile.
A sharp grin followed his revelation.
A punishment…but also a reward.
'NO MATTER YOUR CRIME, YOU STILL BRAVED YOUR FEAR AND CAME HERE. EVEN AFTER FINDING THE TOWN DEAD AND LEFT TO ROT IN A GRAY WORLD OF MONSTERS AND LABYRINTHS.'
'SO, YOUR PUNISHMENT FOR DARING TO COME HERE...'
'YOUR REWARD FOR HAVING MADE IT…'
'…IS THE TRUTH.'
That truth would set James free. It would set him free as well, to allow him the chance that no other had ever had an opportunity to do.
To overtake, overthrow, and overpower his creator.
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'What is he waiting for?' James couldn't help but wonder. His body was rigid and clenched tight as he waited for the expected blow that would most likely kill him. Would it be fairly painless, or drawn out? Would he be able to keep from screaming or begging, or would he be choking around the pain and blood unable to sound out his agony?
He needed to stop thinking about it in such horrific detail otherwise his heart may just decide to give out on him and end the indecision.
Coiling together the last vestiges of his bravado James carefully opened his eyes, head ducked so that he was peering up through the sweaty fringes of his bangs. The pyramid helmet was dangerously close to his forehead, so close that James could reach out with one hand and trace the long lines of metal and edges.
Not that he was remotely brave enough, or perhaps foolish enough, to attempt such a feat.
He cringed and bit back a sound of pain as the hands upon his legs clenched and unclenched without thought of his sensitive state. The innate strength within those latex-covered hands caused an ache that reached down beneath his skin making James worry about the chance that he would have hand shaped bruises across his flesh.
The demon must have been waiting for James to become somewhat distracted. With the striking speed of a snake the hands on James' knees shot forward and clapped over his face, fingers caging the front of his skull in an unmoving grip. The thumbs and first two fingers felt as if they were digging into the tissue of his cheeks and into the edges of his eye sockets, James' eyes had been forced wide open by the stretched fingers and tight hold. The farthest fingers out of all five of Pyramid Head's fingers were buried among the hair along the edge of his skull that was above his ears. Anchoring the man's head so that he was forced to let his shoulders drop in acquiescence or else suffer the strain of twisting within that unforgiving cage of the demon's hands.
James wasn't willing to remain as limp as a doll. He didn't know what the demon's intentions were, but something in his head was nearly shrieking in warning that whatever Pyramid Head was planning could hurt him beyond anything he had anticipated. Whatever intuition or voice was warning him, didn't seem to notice that Pyramid Head could just as easily harm him by crushing his skull since he was capable of doing such a thing if he could tear limbs out of their sockets.
"Get off!" James cursed and flailed grabbing onto the rough hands that gripped his face. His legs were kicking as far as possible, but the motion only allowed Pyramid Head to pin him down further as James' struggles caused him to slip downward and sprawl awkwardly across the countertop.
His skull throbbed and the pressure was mounting as he struggled erratically. Attempts to slam his boots into the demon had no success since they were pressed tight together with not enough space for him to draw back and strike out.
The hands were too solid to budge and rip away from his skull. Too hot, so much that James was certain that his flesh should be smoking and popping. "AhhHhh!!" James choked in pain as the heat began to dig deep like miniature lances twisting and tearing through muscle. It seemed to grow and grow from within, spreading through him and winding its way as far as it was able to reach.
His hands couldn't gain real purchase on Pyramid Head's due to the slickness of the gloves and the crusting blood. He cried out as a flare of heat made his palms burn and the cuts along the damaged flesh nearly screamed from the scorching burn. His skin turned a bright red from the contact, trembling from the shocking heat that had sparked between his hands and the demon's flesh.
'Hurts…oh GOD!!!….I'm being burned alive!' James was now making inarticulate and pained sounds as the skin beneath Pyramid Head's hands and fingers began to grow pink and red from the heat, the burning sensation leeching into his brain like hot knives. The heat lanced into parts of his brain almost scalding the inner flesh on contact. Disrupting nerves and neurons and making signals shoot and stutter in an uneven tempo.
He was thrashing so hard and wildly that Pyramid Head was having a difficult time keeping him from slipping to the floor. James was trying to curl into himself and huddle away from the pain that was slowly eating into him. He didn't hold back the continuous screams that began to spill out like a broken record playing over and over. His throat was seizing and screams softened as saliva in his throat and mouth dried up. James was rocking himself forward until his forehead nearly touched his knees, blind to the world around him while bright nova light burned within his retinas.
James' eyes rolled back showing only whiteness, but the act gave him no mercy from the pain as Pyramid Head's hands begin to slowly but determinedly sink into his flesh inch by inch. Pushing past the aching skin, fingers curling and delving deep while his body shoved James tight into the narrow space as his body began to buck and rock from the attack.
There was no blood flow. Bones did not break, and flesh did not rend and shred. When no spaces lay between the two, Pyramid Head's torso began to melt and shift into James until they were connected by flesh. And still the demon continued to fall and sink into the man, as if allowing himself to be swallowed by a black hole or quicksand. No physical laws could explain such an act and how James' body didn't disintegrate and shut down under the crushing force of the demon's larger bulk.
The pain of their two bodies melting into one another and Pyramid Head physically melding into him was beyond description. It wasn't bearable.
A loud sob of pain when Pyramid Head finally stopped and held himself from continuing to meld with James. But the demon's torso was halfway into James and their hips and thighs could not be easily distinguished from the other. His hands were buried deep with James' flesh surrounding the area where his wrists disappeared into the man. Pyramid Head's elbows were half-buried in James' chest like he was propping himself on top of the man. As he breathed and shifted, Pyramid Head's form shifted deeper and sometimes withdrew out of James' form like there were no physical barriers between them.
To watch it was astounding. It was like James' body was incorporeal, but he was obviously there. For the demon to push his hands and body so deep into James without blood spilling or the human's body breaking under the force was impossible.
Pyramid Head pushed as close as he could until they lay chest to chest, James somehow able to sense past the pain and feel the two heartbeats as they raced and pounded beside one another. James could sense when their eyes met, even through the obstacle of the helmet that masked the demon's face. 'Is this how you plan to kill me, then?' It almost hurt too much to think the words paining him like broken glass along his brain. 'Are you going to tear me apart from the inside?'
He didn't need to wait long to find out. The demon's hands that were buried within James' head clenched and twisted as if gripping something tangible inside.
James felt something inside of his shatter and break underneath the unforgiving onslaught.
The dark corner of his mind, where he hid his deepest fears and every memory that haunted him began to seep out like an oily river. Broken free of the fragile crystal ball that had sealed it tightly away, with the fear and regret that had surrounded it, now was freed to wash away everything that had kept James from allowing himself to see what he needed to see. All was washed away with the truth.
It was then that James thought he had truly died.
Every fuzzy image and recollection was blown open and flared to life with a bright nova of light that nearly blinded him even though it burned within his head and not in front of his eyes.
'No. No. Not three years. She wasn't gone for three years.'
'But the note….'
'I can't…'
'Where is she?'
'She's not here…'
'Mary, you're so cold…'
'Why aren't you breathing?'
'Mary…'
'MARY!!!!!'
'MAARRRRY!!'
'Wake up! You have to wake up! I'm sorry!! You were in so much pain. I….I…'
'….What have I done?!'
'I came here to save you.'
'But it was I who….'
'I was the one who….'
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Pyramid Head's POV
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The devastation in James' eyes was proof of his success.
'AND THAT IS THE TRUTH THAT ONLY I CAN OFFER. THAT ONLY SILENT HILL CAN OFFER. BUT SOMETIMES THE TRUTH CAN BE ENOUGH TO KILL YOU.'
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It could have been minutes, or hours. Even days until finally Pyramid Head's hands pulled back and out of him without a sound leaving James' skin unblemished, their bodies separating until a sliver of space lay between them. The cuts and scrapes from being slammed around and grabbed onto were numb like they had been dealt hours before. Not that James could have told anyone how much time had passed. His eyes had rolled forward into their proper position but the pupils were dilated. He could barely define the color and textures of the kitchen around him, lean flopping weakly to the side.
The crashing roar filled his head, a bone-thrumming pain as everything swirled around in a never-ending tide. Neurons and clusters of nerves sparked and fired panicked signals in the face of such an onslaught barely able to keep up.
Pyramid Head could allow the small distance to lay between them, knowing that James was still caught in the last dregs of the river of memories that was flowing within his head. His limbs had gone limp and were useless to hold him up. Pyramid Head slid close and used his bulk as a barrier when James slumped against his front, the contact causing the man to make a abrupt sound of discomfort. James' body wouldn't work for him, even when he screamed and shouted in his head for his limbs to move, to do something.
The bright shine of pinks and reds were fading from his skin where the demon's hands and body had sunk into him. The trauma of it wasn't even close to fading. James' breath was ragged and short, chest rising and falling in miniscule shifts. His mouth opened as if he would make some sort of sound or was attempting to form a word, but soon would fall closed and James would either shake his head raggedly or his eyes would flicker open and shut.
He barely noticed the heavy weight of the hands gripping the top of his shoulders. The grip caused the material to shift and James was again aware of the cooling blood that had soaked into his clothes, now making the fabric stiff and frigid to the touch. He was trembling from the coolness along the surface of his skin and from the cold spot that had settled inside of him. A hard ball with needles and spikes of ice that branched out within.
James only blinked slowly as the helmet drew close enough that he could hear Pyramid Head breathing, the sound rusty and ringing within the confines of the large red helmet. He didn't know what to expect now, and was too tired and drained to find the strength to care. A long moment hung between them, and James waited for Pyramid Head to make the first move.
It wasn't long before he did.
With a swift pull and a twist Pyramid Head grabbed a handful of the back of James' jacket, hauled him off of the counter, and set him onto his feet. Barely giving the man time to lock his knees into place before he was almost jerked off of his feet as Pyramid Head used that handhold to start to drag James out of the door and down the hallway. The man knew he had been in that hallway earlier but it had suddenly become an unfamiliar world to him. The walls he had used to trace his way along looked too far for him to attempt stretching his head towards to touch them again, their presence daunting. Everything seemed so new, like he had opened his eyes to the world for the first time. It left him in awe. It terrified him.
Pyramid Head didn't give James any time to contemplate the area around him as he headed towards the stairway dragging the stumbling man behind him, keeping James from falling but not allowing him to fall far behind.
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Laura was just getting ready to leave the Apartment Complex through the main doors on the first floor when she heard heavy footsteps upon the stairway above her. The tread was long and steady, and from the sound, the person who was walking was far bigger than she was. It also sounded like they were towing something.
Half-expecting to see James coming down the stairs after having not been able to reach the key that she had kicked away, Laura ran back into the farthest corner of the room to watch the stairs, listening for the footsteps that were becoming louder and louder in the half-dark room. She was both curious and resentful to see where James planned to go. Was he searching for Mary like she was? Had he found some clue that told him where Mary had gone? The little girl pushed that bitter thought away.
The footsteps were at the top of the stairway and making their way down. Laura pushed back into the corner where there was no chance she would be seen. Midway down the steps and Laura was able to make out with the miniscule amount of light from the small windows the rough outline of a person coming down.
It wasn't James. At least, one of them wasn't.
James was being dragged down the stairs by the other man, practically falling against the taller man as he was pulled and led by the grip on the back of his jacket. The stranger's hand held the jacket so tight that James was almost standing on the tips of his boots all but hanging in the air. The man was unfamiliar to Laura, and dressed strangely. Taller than James and wider in the shoulders, wearing some sort of apron stitched through the back with heavy thread, stained brown and red in areas and with heavy black boots that sounded like drums coming down the stairs. The stranger was wearing latex gloves, like the kind the doctors used to wear in the hospital she had lived in for a while.
Taking another look at the man, she realized that in a way, he DID resemble James. She couldn't see his face since both men were now at the bottom of the stairs and their backs were to her, but the taller man had long hair down past his shoulders but the blond shine was the same color as James'. When the stranger's head surveyed the area and turned partially to the side so that she could barely make out the line of his jaw and neck, she could again see the similarities between the two men. Was the stranger James' brother, or something? But if that was the case, why was he practically dragging James around by the scruff of his neck?
And when did James' clothes and hair get so dirty and were patchy with big stains of brown?
As she was wondering this, the stranger seemed to have been satisfied by his brief study of the half-lit area before he strode purposely for the doors, James almost losing his footing when he was too slow to start after him. The doors were shoved wide open by one of the stranger's hands, and Laura covered her eyes from the sudden spray of gray light and fog that brightened the room. Dimly she heard the doors slam shut and the distant creak of the metal fence gate opening and closing that had sealed the Apartment Complex from easy entry.
Laura practically leapt out of the corner, not wanting to lose track of both men. Carefully she approached the doors and slowly pushed them open, peering outside into the fog and into the street.
Slowly she moved forward a step to the open gate turning in various directions ready to draw back in case she had been seen. The fence gate was still swinging slightly, hanging open, but Laura turned left and right but could not see a sign of the two men. It was like they had vanished.
Rushing the rest of the way out of the Wood Side Apartments and through the fence gate, she came to a sudden stop on the sidewalk. Looking left and right again, she still couldn't see any trace of the two men. How could they have disappeared like that?
Laura almost missed something on the pavement of the street. Cautiously she approached the mark, bending down and inspecting the fresh red stain shaped similarly to a large boot. Laura was on her feet in an instant when she realized what the red fluid was, and she traced with her eyes the steady trail of red boot prints as they disappeared in the direction of the Brookhaven Hospital.
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Still PH/James, but more like slash hints. XP
Title: Your Dark God
Author: Chaosdreamer (dreamerchaos)
Warning: Slash hints, gore, horror, AU. Hard R for violence.
Pairing: Pyramid Head/James
Disclaimer: Silent Hill is owned and copyrighted by others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys.
Author's note: Well, I've made it as far as the Apartment Complex and have run into Pyramid Head several times. I also attained a thorough walkthrough of the game (haven't read ahead beyond the characters Maria, Eddie, and Laura, though XD) I will be using the walkthrough to try to help me with the layout of the town and hopefully I'll provide adequate description of the appropriate buildings. If not, I apologize.
Warning: Definitely bit of gore. Death of one or more minor character. Harshness. Pyramid Head being rough. (hitting James, dragging, etc.) Dark, one of my darkest pieces.
Alternate Universe: Just my thoughts on how the scene in Room 307 could have gone differently. Also, I read a plot analysis of Silent Hill 2 (as far along as I am) and about the power and presence of Alessa, curious about the part she plays and how I can work with that. At the same time, I have an inkling to make Pyramid Head seem a more worthy and stronger foe, even if it may be incorrect to the fandom's conclusion. Again, I'm only to the Apartment Complex so far in the game so any mistakes are my fault entirely. But I stumbled across Mary's fate during one of my fic readings. That could be a good or bad thing, depending.
Dedication: To the Silent Hill fans who make this fandom breathlessly wonderful and so new. For making it real, even when stained with the brutality and anger that resides in the world of Alessa and Silent Hill. To those who pushed me to keep going in this fandom even when I was tempted to fade away into the background. Many thanks.
Author's Note: I know that Pyramid Head doesn't speak in the game. At best, I think the most he could manage would be to speak verbally if the helmet was off, etc. Or at the very least, somehow be able to speak telepathically, maybe?
'…….': Thoughts
"……": Speech
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Even though he could barely see through the rotten wood slates of the closet door, James still was able to prevent himself from reacting physical to the violent struggle occurring before his eyes. He cringed and clamped his eyes shut so that he didn't have to watch the mannequins being torn into and ripped apart. A series of crackling pops and twisting grind of bone against cartilage was a nauseating symphony of horror that tested his endurance. Blood misted through the small space in the kitchen and fell to the floor in a hushed fall and soft breathless sigh like rain.
Two wet and heavy thuds of meat signaled the shredded portions of the last mannequin falling to the stained and blood-covered floor. He hoped that the mannequins' deaths had been quick, but was fairly certain that the blood and butchery had begun to be carried out long before he had entered the room and stumbled across a blood bath. James' eyes hesitated before flickering open already able to envision in his mind a muted version of the damage and ruin that was left in the apartment. The pyramid creature that had ripped the disfigured female demons apart stood over the carnage with his apron soaked with matted bloody bits and dripping down into red puddles under his boots and latex gloves stretched tight over clenched fists. He seemed to be examining his bloody work, the large helmet tilting from side to side as if counting the pieces that were left.
One hand was clamped over his mouth and nose to keep from making any audible sounds of distress and fear. The stench of the torn bodies was horrid, thick and putrid worse than an overused outhouse during a hot summer day. James' stomach seized up instinctively and acid stung in his throat forcing him to swallow desperately to force the hard burning knot back down.
This creature, he was obviously on an entirely different level from the other demons James had previously encountered.
The armless and twisting things that wandered the street were slow, but at their very worst they slithered like serpents doped up on speed when knocked to the ground moving and snaking at an alarming speed chasing after James. He had finally resorted to shoving and pushing the ones on the street aside as he ran past leaving them in his dust while he desperately searched for some sort of sanctuary from the nightmare world that was coming to life all around him. He did this while giving his best effort at ignoring the ache and burn in his lungs while avoiding slipping through the broad stretches of cooling blood upon the streets that had been left by a body being dragged across the pavement. The radio had been a blessing in disguise, providing a split-second warning of danger as the creatures would sudden appear and pitch themselves in his direction out of the fog and spraying acid from the gaping opening in their chests.
By sheer luck, he had stumbled across the corpse of someone…or something… at the dead-end of that alley. The body was left propped and leaning against the alley's fence as if the individual had fallen into sudden slumber. But no one could possibly sleep through having their skin flayed off of their bodies or chunks of meat ripped off. James had offered a small apology to the individual as he searched the putrid remains of their clothing, trying to find something he could use. He found the key to the Apartment Complex and made a mad dash to what he had thought would be a safe haven.
His luck failed him then. The radio he had acquired hissed wildly when he found his way to the first floor hallways, groping through the heavy darkness and finding locked doors outside of the safety of the scarce light bulbs upon the walls. He had almost run right into another one of those things from outside, ducking out of the way of the acid spray. Making a break for the stairs James had wandered and searched the rooms, through the garbage, cluttered chaos, and darkness until he had found first a handgun. Then a little girl that seemed to have some sort of vendetta against him since she had stomped his hands through the bars on the third floor, kicking away the key he had been reaching for. A working flashlight had been left upon the breast of a dressed mannequin the outfit strikingly similar to Mary's surrounded by the halo of soft white light streaming from the small flashlight.
He had run from the room even before the first mannequin creature had darted out of the shadows, instinctively reacting to the slowly enclosing scuffle of noise that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Continuing his search he had wandered into another room and found a key to one of the rooms back on the first floor, but not before seeing the pyramid demon for the first time through the bars at the end of the hallway. The red glow that has surrounded the demon pulsed and burned like it was fire-hot. He had ducked into the nearest room, only to be greeted by a corpse sitting in a lone chair in front of a flickering TV set that was caked across one corner with blood, the same room where he found the key to the first story room.
James had followed the trail and clues no matter how bewildering they were, resisting the urge to kick the old grandfather clock as he attempted to work out the riddle etched into its side. Finally an audible click signaled his success and he was able to move into the room through the open doorway hidden behind the large clock.
After all that effort, all that work, he had finally left the room and had gone up the stairs to the third floor. Ending up in Room 307… and stunned speechless by the sight of the two mannequins being mercilessly attacked and slammed around within the kitchen directly connected to the main room.
He knew, James KNEW that he would be spotted if he attempted to make for the door again no matter how close his fingertips were to touching the door handle. His only option was to retreat into the nearest hidden space. The closet. Thankfully, the rotten wood and rusted hinges had made barely any noise as he closed it behind him.
The only problem from that moment on was that there was only one way in, and one way out.
There was nothing in the small space that would help him other than a key left on a lone shelf. His handgun had some bullets, but James was pretty certain that the best he would manage would be to just piss the thing off if he dared to fire the gun.
Still the handgun offered him a minimal amount of comfort, the cold metal a firm and solid weight in his hands providing him with an equally physical and mental anchor.
The pyramid shaped helmet rose and turned in the direction of the closet door, like he could sense the indecision and direction of James' thoughts.
It couldn't be. James hadn't made a sound. He hadn't even cocked the gun.
'…shit….' James could barely think of any other word to describe how badly the situation had turned.
As ineffective as it was James shuffled back further into the closet and pressed his back flat against the farthest wall from the door. Foolishly wishing that something else in the general direction of the closet had caught the demon's attention. If the demon figured out that there was new prey very close by, then James had little that he could do since he had inadvertently cornered himself.
The demon rose up from a half-crouch from among the gore and blood, taking slow and steady steps in the direction of the sealed closet door. Each step was slow and methodical the heels of his boots made wet squelches and rippling slaps through the spreading puddles of blood. Too soon for James he was standing outside of the small space, latex covered hands laying palm-flat along the rough door causing the thin portal to creak under the firm press and solid weight. Fingers tapped in a slow and unhurried pace along the wood's surface like the fingertips were seeking out any imperfection or weakness and trying to sense the alluring heat of a human body hiding so close by.
Time stretched on, James' hands growing clammy as he waited to see what would happen next. He was too afraid to breathe deeply half fearing that that alone would cause the massive helmet to jerk up and peer through the wood slates directly at him. When the finger taps ceased and the hands pulled back a ways, James thought that the demon had sensed that there was nothing to his interest and was preparing to move away.
His last thought was extinguished by the crack and thunder of breaking wood as the hands shoved forward and through the door, cracking and tearing the door off of its hinges and shoving the broken pieces inward into the small interior of the closet.
James shielded his head and face with his arms, hands crossed in front of him as shards of wood flew at him. Sharp pain shot through the limbs and palms as rough broken wood scrapped and smashed into him. A heavy gasp was shoved from his chest as a large piece of wood smacked into his abdomen physically knocking him forward flat against the wall. His face stung from where a few shards of wood had grazed close scratching his cheeks and chin.
A hard grip that matched steel closed over his wrists that were crossed over his forehead. James lurched forward and was pulled off of his feet and onto his knees. He cried out while the fabric of his pants did little to stop the burn as he was dragged roughly out of the closet. He fell onto his side hanging limp meanwhile his arms strained from the painful angle they were being pulled back over his head.
His world rocked and flipped and with a hard forward jerking motion that left the world spinning the demon literally lifted the man throwing James across the room towards what was left of the two mannequins. He slid and rolled across the gore stained floor limbs and body smashing hard and breaking his fall.
James' head bounced off of the wood floor beams and stars and lightning sprang along the surface of the damp wood underneath already scratched hands. Glass shards stung his hands when the flashlight that had been attached to the lapel of his green jacket shattered from the sharp impact. Dizzily James' body jolted once when hitting the floor, and the handgun was shaken free from the shocking blow and spun across the floor to disappear among the thick piles of meat and limbs. By some odd chance, the radio wasn't smashed to pieces, but the switch was forced in the 'OFF' direction.
James didn't really notice the wellbeing of the radio, instead trying to dispel the bouncing blobs of color that danced across his eyes. The ends of James' hair spread across the pools of blood, the front of his shirt and pants quickly darkening to crimson. His breath shuddered and gasped against his forearm that kept him propped up far enough from landing face-first into even more spreading fluids. He was dangerously close to slipping and falling completely into the organs and meat smeared beneath him, dead flesh jiggling, brushing close to his hands.
James jerked back when his eyes fell upon the twisted end of a hip bone not far from his face that was connected to pasty flesh and the limb that was already beginning to stiffen and lock in place. He tried to shuffle as best as he could far enough away from the bloody chunk.
A harsh glide of boots walking steadily towards him caught his attention, James turned partially to peer over his shoulder at the approaching figure.
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Pyramid Head's POV
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To think that James really thought that he could hide from him.
The notion of something so mundane actually working disgusted him. While he may have been focused more upon the writhing demons underneath him that attempted to twist away to try to escape from his fury, he did not miss the rabbit-fast beating of a human heartbeat close by. His hands had snapped and ripped the limbs apart, the blood spraying across his front like a torrential waterfall, cooling his rage and destruction for a moment.
It had been nearly exhilarating to slowly approach the small space where the man hid, listening as the heartbeat quickened, muffled breathing escalated to a lengthy crescendo that stretched forever.
When his hands pressed along the wood of the door, he didn't have to bother peering through the rotten slates to see the man inside. The tips of his fingers and the palm of his hands soaked in the pulsing heat that surrounded the man, a living breathing force that throbbed and beat with life, calling to him.
'HAVE YOU ANY IDEA, JAMES?' He wondered. 'HAVE YOU ANY IDEA THAT YOU CAN'T ESCAPE? HOW YOU CALL TO ME.'
The relationship between the two of them was as old as the sanctuary of a mother's womb but at the same time as fresh as a newborn. It was what had made them what they were, the thing that tied them together was soaked with ill intent and lack of knowledge of the possibilities, the power that was innate and curled deep inside. The Calling; always there but just waiting for that one moment of strength to summon the shadow from within but weak enough for the counterpart to punch and rip its way out of the cage that had sealed it away. The power to throw down angels and the ability to give a demon wings. Humans were the ones who created and destroyed worlds, an example being the one known as Alessa.
Her pain and anger had poisoned her, turned the power inside of her more viscous, more rancid than any that had come before. The power, the potential within that become diseased and festered while giving Alessa the power to bring to life her darkest dreams. Alessa had believed that her anger and wrath had made her into a god. She believed that she created Silent Hill and the many other realms and plains. She claimed Silent Hill as her own personal world. Her Hell.
She was not the first, nor would she be the last. All that she had done was open the door that had always been there. Opened to door to those that had waited so long for an entity powerful enough, fierce in body and presence that they could tear the door off of its hinges and allow for another world to break across that breach. The seam that had separated the worlds was no longer solid, becoming a mere trickling stream to cross rather than the unending bottomless ocean.
No. Alessa was no god. At least not his god. If he had to say that one being was his god, then he would be forced to admit that it was James.
James. The one responsible for giving life to him. They were on opposite sides of the mirror too similar to be differentiated, separated only by the mechanisms turning and rolling inside of their heads.
So then what was James to him?
A father? A brother? Lover? Was there anything that bound them together?
Was he nothing but a stray thought? Just a simple mistake?
They were both totally different. They were exactly the same.
How that thought made him rage and want to tear the man into strips of meat and bone.
How it made him want to chain the man and hide him far and deep where only he could see and touch him.
'IS THIS A COMMON THING?' He thought this as he tore through the door, finally seeing the man as he shielded his face from the flying debris as it crashed around him. 'DO THE CREATIONS EQUALLY HATE AND LOVE THEIR CREATOR? LET ME LOOK UPON YOU AND SEE JUST WHO YOU REALLY ARE.'
……
James Sunderland.
Husband.
Widow.
…Murderer.
His hands closed over the convenient handle that James' wrists offered. A low snarl trickled from his lips as his fingers tightened over wrists that were smaller, weaker than his own. He could snap and crack them open with hardly any effort. Pierce James' flesh with the ragged ends of his own bones just by tightening a hand and yanking hard enough to the side.
'YOU BECAME A MURDERER WITH THESE HANDS. THESE HANDS, WERE THEY THE ONES THAT SHAPED ME INTO WHAT I AM?' He asked himself.
'I COULD BREAK THEM. I COULD BREAK YOU. YOU ARE WEAK. I CAN DENOUNCE YOU AND OVERTHROW YOU. I COULD KILL YOU, EVEN IF YOU ARE MY "GOD".'
'SO WHY HAVEN'T I?'
It was a bittersweet victory to hurl that smaller form away and watching James smash into the ground. His body bounced like a rag doll, face buried against his arm as he fell among the gore and gristle. He caught the clatter of the handgun as it flew across the floor and the shine of the glass shards that symbolized the damaged state of the man's only light source. Symbolizing his fall from grace without the light to guide him.
'BEHOLD.' He wanted to laugh at James' predicament. 'THE LIGHT ABANDONS YOU. AND NOW, YOU KNOW ONLY THE DARKNESS.'
The blood was spilling across and tainting James' clothing, sullying the relatively clean and neat pants, shirt, and jacket. James cringed back from a shattered limb of one of the mannequins that lay close to his face. His hands slipped along the thick streaks of fluid as he attempted to rise to his knees. Hearing the demon slowly approaching him, James turned partially, looking over his shoulder with fear-filled eyes. His body was visibly shaking, the tips of his hair dyed crimson from being dragged through the gore.
A strangely alluring and poignant sight that made something inside curl and flex with rising interest. 'YOU ARE AN ATTRACTIVE MAN, JAMES. BUT YOU ARE ALMOST BEAUTIFUL IN THIS MOMENT, WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME WITH SUCH FEAR BUT ALSO SUCH OBSTINACY, EVEN IF YOU ARE COVERED IN BLOOD.' He couldn't help but acknowledge.
Indeed while James was clearly afraid, eyes shining with the fear, they also hardened and his lips tightened seemingly to avoid making any sound of distress for the demon to gloat over.
He barely made a sound even when the demon's hand fell and circled his throat. A short grimace of pain marred his face as he was again lifted bodily up off of his feet wheezing as the hand encircling his neck so quickly cut away his air. Smaller hands closed over the larger wrist connected to the hand that was slowly strangling him, squeezing as if he had any hope of tugging the punishing grip away.
But it was in vain. James was no match for the strength that lay within the demon.
With several large steps, he was standing in the same area where he had carried out his attack on the two mannequins. A rough shove and James was forced into a sitting position on top of the counter. The man banged his head against the small cabinet as he instinctively jerked back and away from the hand that fell slowly away from his throat. James coughed brokenly, swallowing around the soreness from the sharp grip that had been removed from his windpipe.
His hand did not travel too far from James. Grabbing a thick handful of shirt and open jacket he forced the man to sit still until they were pressed chest to chest. He couldn't help but grin at the look on James' face as the bulk of his body forced its way between James' knees so that he was trapped close and tight with nowhere to go.
James shoved at his shoulders, twisting his head away from the pyramid helmet that hovered so close above his forehead. In silent warning his hands fell to clench around the top of James' thighs, the threat left unsaid between them.
'YOU KNOW I COULD DO IT. I COULD RIP YOUR LIMBS APART, JUST LIKE I DID TO THOSE TWO. BUT THE QUESTION IS, WILL I?'
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'I won't scream…I won't beg…I won't…I…' James' internal mantra was failing to offer any comfort. He was shaking so violently that the hands that lay over the top of his knees were the primary forces that kept him from spilling into a useless heap onto the kitchen floor.
He was also shaking from the cooling temperature of the blood that was pressing and trickling across his skin, pushing its way through his clothing. His neck itched from the thin tendrils of red that slid down from damp strands of hair. He couldn't shift in discomfort to try to shake or wipe the unsettling moisture away, his body too stiff from being thrown across the room.
'I hurt all over…' James' body was aching from the attack in the closet, the numerous scratches stinging from the contact of blood along open wounds. Chest and shoulders ached from being used as a cushion when he had slammed into the floor. His head….it felt like someone was using a hammer along the inside of his brain cavity.
There had been no mercy in the attack, not that James had expected any. Pyramid Head drove into him with punishing brutality, James fearfully that he would end up as a lone smear across the floor by the time the demon was through beating and breaking him down.
'What the hell is he?' He thought numbly. 'Some kind of curse, something that's sole purpose is to torture me?'
The shoulders that his hands were pushing against may as well be made of brick since Pyramid Head was not budging an inch away from him. His body was pressed close to James, but loose like the smaller man's struggles were as weak as a fly's.
'I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared. Am I going to die here? No. I've made it this far already, just to end up trapped here and used as a punching bag.'
'Mary.'
'Mary, if it's true that it ends here, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to make it and to find you.'
James stilled his struggles, accepting how pointless they were becoming. Both of his hands fell away from Pyramid Head's shoulders to rest at his sides. He hissed as they pressed against the cold tile, cuts stinging from the icy contact. His head felt suddenly too heavy for his neck to hold. It fell back so that he was peering up at the helmet that masked his attacker, somehow able to sense where the eyes were that obviously watched his actions.
"Do it…Just do whatever you're going to do, then. I can't stop you." James admitted. He felt like he was daring the demon to finish off the job. Perhaps goading him would make James' death much swifter then it had been previously intended. Any small victory on his part he would gladly take with him to the grave.
He didn't want to see what Pyramid Head's response would be. Closing his eyes, for what he believed would be the final time, James hung onto the hope that perhaps if he were fortunate enough, he may find some way to once again be given the chance to search for his wife in another life or time.
It was the only hope that seemed worth holding onto.
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Pyramid Head's POV
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When James' eyes fell shut after the man's dare, he felt such rage, such fury that he could have and was resisting the temptation of snapping the man's neck. He resisted it, though, knowing that such level of damage would bring him little.
The fool. Did he really think he could goad him? Him? The Red Pyramid?
Apparently.
He let the silence and the stillness hang around them, letting the tension and the moment build.
Allowing himself time to scoff at what James was obviously doing.
'TRYING TO ENVISION YOUR DEAD WIFE, JAMES? HOW LITTLE YOU KNOW. THE DISEASE STARTED HER PAIN, BUT YOU ENDED IT. WOULD OTHERS DESCRIBE YOU AS HER SAVIOR, OR HER EXECUTIONER? AND GUESS WHERE THAT LEAVES THE TWO OF US?'
His role was obvious. He was James' judge and punishment. He knew that from the beginning, before he ever laid eyes on the man. He had been born for him.
That gave him a great deal of power over him. And that presented him with so many possibilities.
It would be too easy, really. To beat James into bloody and ragged pulp. To kill him. To assault him in mind and body. But it was far too anti-climatic and seemed too degrading for the individual who was responsible for his being. James had BELIEVED, and thus, Pyramid Head had come to life. He had a purpose that revolved, surrounding James like a circling predator.
It all came back to James. James, who believed that he deserved to be punished for his deed, even though he had repressed what exactly he was being punished for.
Personally, he couldn't care less for punishing James for ending his wife's life. As brutal of a thought that it was, the disease would have killed her ultimately. It would have been long and painful, and Mary would have most definitely have hated James for allowing her to suffer in such a way.
So, why was Mary calling for James, haunting him even when she was gone? Because James wanted to also believe that there was a chance that, his wife was alive and whole. He wanted her, felt that he couldn't live without her. Too afraid to live for himself but too afraid to die, all because of the memory of his wife.
If only he knew what she had become.
She didn't want to punish James because he had given her a swifter and less painful death. She wanted to punish James because he thought he deserved her wrath. He was willing to play the martyr for her. Even though it had been her in the hospital who had screamed at him to leave her alone, to get out and to get away from her.
James punished himself far more than anyone else could.
So, why did he want to be the one to punish James since he ignored the one thing that James was guilty of?
Because he could.
Because he had the power to.
Because he was selfish, and perhaps the punishment would make James wake up to the fact that now, he would never escape from the hell he had created. That he had shaped the world of Silent Hill. He had created the Red Pyramid, unintentionally, irreversibly. But at the same time that birth had brought with it great power that the Red Pyramid was willing to use on what he saw fit.
Whether James was his god or not, ultimately James was his, as he was James'.
And now that James had fallen, and could not find the strength to rise again…
How could he not want to pounce upon that opportunity and hold it tightly to him?
To claim the One that had finally come and awakened them. The One that would never leave this town and would be bound in this limbo for all eternity trapped by the force of his own creation and power. Like Alessa, but with far more naiveté regarding his role in the world and far more desirable than that harpy could ever be.
Oh, he was a Monster to think and dream of such things. But he already knew that. The humans who hissed at and condemned such intentions and darkness were reacting towards their fears and the wickedness that was already spreading its seeds inside of their own souls since the moment they looked at the world with open eyes. Innocence was an illusion, a short dream that passed by in the flick of an eye. The only ones who could claim any vestige of innocence were infants and children. But they would grow up and out of that fantasy time and life.
His hands were opening and closing, clenching and unclenching as he settled deep in thought. Really, what could he do? There were so many possibilities, but there were as many consequences that he didn't have the desire or patience to contend with.
For one thing: he did not want to drive James to insanity. A babbling and drooling fool was an eyesore and a symbol of his lack of control for allowing permanent damage to be left behind. It would be better just to end such humiliation with the twist of a hand before it started.
To avoid that, he would have to reconsider some things.
Punishment could not be ignored. By the rules of this world and by that…woman…whatever she had now become…Alessa…James had to pay some price. Every action had a reaction. That was the primary law.
But was there a chance that a punishment existed so that James would be unable to run away from Silent Hill. He didn't need to want to stay here, in this limbo, with him. Not initially, at least.
There was the same small dilemma that kept his mind running in circles. What was the appropriate punishment? What would truly make James break but also keep him whole?
It suddenly struck him, so suddenly that for a moment he felt like a complete imbecile.
A sharp grin followed his revelation.
A punishment…but also a reward.
'NO MATTER YOUR CRIME, YOU STILL BRAVED YOUR FEAR AND CAME HERE. EVEN AFTER FINDING THE TOWN DEAD AND LEFT TO ROT IN A GRAY WORLD OF MONSTERS AND LABYRINTHS.'
'SO, YOUR PUNISHMENT FOR DARING TO COME HERE...'
'YOUR REWARD FOR HAVING MADE IT…'
'…IS THE TRUTH.'
That truth would set James free. It would set him free as well, to allow him the chance that no other had ever had an opportunity to do.
To overtake, overthrow, and overpower his creator.
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'What is he waiting for?' James couldn't help but wonder. His body was rigid and clenched tight as he waited for the expected blow that would most likely kill him. Would it be fairly painless, or drawn out? Would he be able to keep from screaming or begging, or would he be choking around the pain and blood unable to sound out his agony?
He needed to stop thinking about it in such horrific detail otherwise his heart may just decide to give out on him and end the indecision.
Coiling together the last vestiges of his bravado James carefully opened his eyes, head ducked so that he was peering up through the sweaty fringes of his bangs. The pyramid helmet was dangerously close to his forehead, so close that James could reach out with one hand and trace the long lines of metal and edges.
Not that he was remotely brave enough, or perhaps foolish enough, to attempt such a feat.
He cringed and bit back a sound of pain as the hands upon his legs clenched and unclenched without thought of his sensitive state. The innate strength within those latex-covered hands caused an ache that reached down beneath his skin making James worry about the chance that he would have hand shaped bruises across his flesh.
The demon must have been waiting for James to become somewhat distracted. With the striking speed of a snake the hands on James' knees shot forward and clapped over his face, fingers caging the front of his skull in an unmoving grip. The thumbs and first two fingers felt as if they were digging into the tissue of his cheeks and into the edges of his eye sockets, James' eyes had been forced wide open by the stretched fingers and tight hold. The farthest fingers out of all five of Pyramid Head's fingers were buried among the hair along the edge of his skull that was above his ears. Anchoring the man's head so that he was forced to let his shoulders drop in acquiescence or else suffer the strain of twisting within that unforgiving cage of the demon's hands.
James wasn't willing to remain as limp as a doll. He didn't know what the demon's intentions were, but something in his head was nearly shrieking in warning that whatever Pyramid Head was planning could hurt him beyond anything he had anticipated. Whatever intuition or voice was warning him, didn't seem to notice that Pyramid Head could just as easily harm him by crushing his skull since he was capable of doing such a thing if he could tear limbs out of their sockets.
"Get off!" James cursed and flailed grabbing onto the rough hands that gripped his face. His legs were kicking as far as possible, but the motion only allowed Pyramid Head to pin him down further as James' struggles caused him to slip downward and sprawl awkwardly across the countertop.
His skull throbbed and the pressure was mounting as he struggled erratically. Attempts to slam his boots into the demon had no success since they were pressed tight together with not enough space for him to draw back and strike out.
The hands were too solid to budge and rip away from his skull. Too hot, so much that James was certain that his flesh should be smoking and popping. "AhhHhh!!" James choked in pain as the heat began to dig deep like miniature lances twisting and tearing through muscle. It seemed to grow and grow from within, spreading through him and winding its way as far as it was able to reach.
His hands couldn't gain real purchase on Pyramid Head's due to the slickness of the gloves and the crusting blood. He cried out as a flare of heat made his palms burn and the cuts along the damaged flesh nearly screamed from the scorching burn. His skin turned a bright red from the contact, trembling from the shocking heat that had sparked between his hands and the demon's flesh.
'Hurts…oh GOD!!!….I'm being burned alive!' James was now making inarticulate and pained sounds as the skin beneath Pyramid Head's hands and fingers began to grow pink and red from the heat, the burning sensation leeching into his brain like hot knives. The heat lanced into parts of his brain almost scalding the inner flesh on contact. Disrupting nerves and neurons and making signals shoot and stutter in an uneven tempo.
He was thrashing so hard and wildly that Pyramid Head was having a difficult time keeping him from slipping to the floor. James was trying to curl into himself and huddle away from the pain that was slowly eating into him. He didn't hold back the continuous screams that began to spill out like a broken record playing over and over. His throat was seizing and screams softened as saliva in his throat and mouth dried up. James was rocking himself forward until his forehead nearly touched his knees, blind to the world around him while bright nova light burned within his retinas.
James' eyes rolled back showing only whiteness, but the act gave him no mercy from the pain as Pyramid Head's hands begin to slowly but determinedly sink into his flesh inch by inch. Pushing past the aching skin, fingers curling and delving deep while his body shoved James tight into the narrow space as his body began to buck and rock from the attack.
There was no blood flow. Bones did not break, and flesh did not rend and shred. When no spaces lay between the two, Pyramid Head's torso began to melt and shift into James until they were connected by flesh. And still the demon continued to fall and sink into the man, as if allowing himself to be swallowed by a black hole or quicksand. No physical laws could explain such an act and how James' body didn't disintegrate and shut down under the crushing force of the demon's larger bulk.
The pain of their two bodies melting into one another and Pyramid Head physically melding into him was beyond description. It wasn't bearable.
A loud sob of pain when Pyramid Head finally stopped and held himself from continuing to meld with James. But the demon's torso was halfway into James and their hips and thighs could not be easily distinguished from the other. His hands were buried deep with James' flesh surrounding the area where his wrists disappeared into the man. Pyramid Head's elbows were half-buried in James' chest like he was propping himself on top of the man. As he breathed and shifted, Pyramid Head's form shifted deeper and sometimes withdrew out of James' form like there were no physical barriers between them.
To watch it was astounding. It was like James' body was incorporeal, but he was obviously there. For the demon to push his hands and body so deep into James without blood spilling or the human's body breaking under the force was impossible.
Pyramid Head pushed as close as he could until they lay chest to chest, James somehow able to sense past the pain and feel the two heartbeats as they raced and pounded beside one another. James could sense when their eyes met, even through the obstacle of the helmet that masked the demon's face. 'Is this how you plan to kill me, then?' It almost hurt too much to think the words paining him like broken glass along his brain. 'Are you going to tear me apart from the inside?'
He didn't need to wait long to find out. The demon's hands that were buried within James' head clenched and twisted as if gripping something tangible inside.
James felt something inside of his shatter and break underneath the unforgiving onslaught.
The dark corner of his mind, where he hid his deepest fears and every memory that haunted him began to seep out like an oily river. Broken free of the fragile crystal ball that had sealed it tightly away, with the fear and regret that had surrounded it, now was freed to wash away everything that had kept James from allowing himself to see what he needed to see. All was washed away with the truth.
It was then that James thought he had truly died.
Every fuzzy image and recollection was blown open and flared to life with a bright nova of light that nearly blinded him even though it burned within his head and not in front of his eyes.
'No. No. Not three years. She wasn't gone for three years.'
'But the note….'
'I can't…'
'Where is she?'
'She's not here…'
'Mary, you're so cold…'
'Why aren't you breathing?'
'Mary…'
'MARY!!!!!'
'MAARRRRY!!'
'Wake up! You have to wake up! I'm sorry!! You were in so much pain. I….I…'
'….What have I done?!'
'I came here to save you.'
'But it was I who….'
'I was the one who….'
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Pyramid Head's POV
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The devastation in James' eyes was proof of his success.
'AND THAT IS THE TRUTH THAT ONLY I CAN OFFER. THAT ONLY SILENT HILL CAN OFFER. BUT SOMETIMES THE TRUTH CAN BE ENOUGH TO KILL YOU.'
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It could have been minutes, or hours. Even days until finally Pyramid Head's hands pulled back and out of him without a sound leaving James' skin unblemished, their bodies separating until a sliver of space lay between them. The cuts and scrapes from being slammed around and grabbed onto were numb like they had been dealt hours before. Not that James could have told anyone how much time had passed. His eyes had rolled forward into their proper position but the pupils were dilated. He could barely define the color and textures of the kitchen around him, lean flopping weakly to the side.
The crashing roar filled his head, a bone-thrumming pain as everything swirled around in a never-ending tide. Neurons and clusters of nerves sparked and fired panicked signals in the face of such an onslaught barely able to keep up.
Pyramid Head could allow the small distance to lay between them, knowing that James was still caught in the last dregs of the river of memories that was flowing within his head. His limbs had gone limp and were useless to hold him up. Pyramid Head slid close and used his bulk as a barrier when James slumped against his front, the contact causing the man to make a abrupt sound of discomfort. James' body wouldn't work for him, even when he screamed and shouted in his head for his limbs to move, to do something.
The bright shine of pinks and reds were fading from his skin where the demon's hands and body had sunk into him. The trauma of it wasn't even close to fading. James' breath was ragged and short, chest rising and falling in miniscule shifts. His mouth opened as if he would make some sort of sound or was attempting to form a word, but soon would fall closed and James would either shake his head raggedly or his eyes would flicker open and shut.
He barely noticed the heavy weight of the hands gripping the top of his shoulders. The grip caused the material to shift and James was again aware of the cooling blood that had soaked into his clothes, now making the fabric stiff and frigid to the touch. He was trembling from the coolness along the surface of his skin and from the cold spot that had settled inside of him. A hard ball with needles and spikes of ice that branched out within.
James only blinked slowly as the helmet drew close enough that he could hear Pyramid Head breathing, the sound rusty and ringing within the confines of the large red helmet. He didn't know what to expect now, and was too tired and drained to find the strength to care. A long moment hung between them, and James waited for Pyramid Head to make the first move.
It wasn't long before he did.
With a swift pull and a twist Pyramid Head grabbed a handful of the back of James' jacket, hauled him off of the counter, and set him onto his feet. Barely giving the man time to lock his knees into place before he was almost jerked off of his feet as Pyramid Head used that handhold to start to drag James out of the door and down the hallway. The man knew he had been in that hallway earlier but it had suddenly become an unfamiliar world to him. The walls he had used to trace his way along looked too far for him to attempt stretching his head towards to touch them again, their presence daunting. Everything seemed so new, like he had opened his eyes to the world for the first time. It left him in awe. It terrified him.
Pyramid Head didn't give James any time to contemplate the area around him as he headed towards the stairway dragging the stumbling man behind him, keeping James from falling but not allowing him to fall far behind.
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Laura was just getting ready to leave the Apartment Complex through the main doors on the first floor when she heard heavy footsteps upon the stairway above her. The tread was long and steady, and from the sound, the person who was walking was far bigger than she was. It also sounded like they were towing something.
Half-expecting to see James coming down the stairs after having not been able to reach the key that she had kicked away, Laura ran back into the farthest corner of the room to watch the stairs, listening for the footsteps that were becoming louder and louder in the half-dark room. She was both curious and resentful to see where James planned to go. Was he searching for Mary like she was? Had he found some clue that told him where Mary had gone? The little girl pushed that bitter thought away.
The footsteps were at the top of the stairway and making their way down. Laura pushed back into the corner where there was no chance she would be seen. Midway down the steps and Laura was able to make out with the miniscule amount of light from the small windows the rough outline of a person coming down.
It wasn't James. At least, one of them wasn't.
James was being dragged down the stairs by the other man, practically falling against the taller man as he was pulled and led by the grip on the back of his jacket. The stranger's hand held the jacket so tight that James was almost standing on the tips of his boots all but hanging in the air. The man was unfamiliar to Laura, and dressed strangely. Taller than James and wider in the shoulders, wearing some sort of apron stitched through the back with heavy thread, stained brown and red in areas and with heavy black boots that sounded like drums coming down the stairs. The stranger was wearing latex gloves, like the kind the doctors used to wear in the hospital she had lived in for a while.
Taking another look at the man, she realized that in a way, he DID resemble James. She couldn't see his face since both men were now at the bottom of the stairs and their backs were to her, but the taller man had long hair down past his shoulders but the blond shine was the same color as James'. When the stranger's head surveyed the area and turned partially to the side so that she could barely make out the line of his jaw and neck, she could again see the similarities between the two men. Was the stranger James' brother, or something? But if that was the case, why was he practically dragging James around by the scruff of his neck?
And when did James' clothes and hair get so dirty and were patchy with big stains of brown?
As she was wondering this, the stranger seemed to have been satisfied by his brief study of the half-lit area before he strode purposely for the doors, James almost losing his footing when he was too slow to start after him. The doors were shoved wide open by one of the stranger's hands, and Laura covered her eyes from the sudden spray of gray light and fog that brightened the room. Dimly she heard the doors slam shut and the distant creak of the metal fence gate opening and closing that had sealed the Apartment Complex from easy entry.
Laura practically leapt out of the corner, not wanting to lose track of both men. Carefully she approached the doors and slowly pushed them open, peering outside into the fog and into the street.
Slowly she moved forward a step to the open gate turning in various directions ready to draw back in case she had been seen. The fence gate was still swinging slightly, hanging open, but Laura turned left and right but could not see a sign of the two men. It was like they had vanished.
Rushing the rest of the way out of the Wood Side Apartments and through the fence gate, she came to a sudden stop on the sidewalk. Looking left and right again, she still couldn't see any trace of the two men. How could they have disappeared like that?
Laura almost missed something on the pavement of the street. Cautiously she approached the mark, bending down and inspecting the fresh red stain shaped similarly to a large boot. Laura was on her feet in an instant when she realized what the red fluid was, and she traced with her eyes the steady trail of red boot prints as they disappeared in the direction of the Brookhaven Hospital.
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