The Cardinal Directive: Mission Log #55

The Only Way Out (Requiem)

[Start of Season 2]
[Previous]

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>> ...
>> Confirmed.
>> Now playing Mission Log #55...

As the footage begins to play, the audio distorts into a chaotic array of sounds. Panicked breathing scraping against a mic, water rushing, the dull roar of blood pounding in the ears. The hum.

The visual bleeds and black artifacts burn away at what little it manages to show. Olympica. The rush of people. The ARNEN city. Droves of the undead moving in reverse as the film stutters backwards faster and faster until finally it settles on darkness.

The creak of a window opening.

And a song begins to play.

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As the artifacts clear, Sebastian sits on the bed before the camera, having set it up on the dresser at the opposite end of the room. Golden twilight streams into the room from the window, curtains open and glass ajar.

On the desk beneath the window, a small device sits — a black box with one side open, allowing the wires to spill out onto the desk. A few visibly snake onto the floor and out of sight, connecting it to places unknown.

Barely legible text scrolls holographically in the space just above it, flickering and distorting often: > Now Playing: LACRIMOSA - MOZART.

Sebastian is quiet for some time, staring at the camera as he gathers himself.

The room is a disorganized mess — not thrashed, but all the supplies have clearly been moved and searched through. Tools lie on the floor at seemingly random, interspaced intervals.

All except one — the CO2 gun. It sits on the bed next to Sebastian, his only companion.

Alison is nowhere in sight.

With one last glance to the window, Sebastian squares his shoulders, and turns to the camera.

“I had a dream once, that it ended this way,” he says. “But this wasn’t what I was picturing.”

He leans forward, bracing his elbows against his knees. His eyes bore into the camera, as though he can see the very eyes viewing it even now.

“…It’s been a long few months down here. Of running. Hiding. Preparing. We saw our share of troubles — dead and otherwise. We always made it out. But never made it through. Never found the exit.” He gestures around the room. “But I’m not running anymore. I’m staying right here. Waiting. For… you.”