72 years ago

  "You tell us who sent you, pain ends real simple," said one of the cultists, punching him in the face. The man spit blood on the concrete ground, smiling at the cultist.

  "Fuck you, dipshit," said the man, as the cultist smiled and laid another punch, leaving a comment.

  "I love doing this, you know. We can be here aaaaall day..."

  "EY, YOU KILL HIM, HE WON'T SAY ANYTHING!" yelled a cultist further back in the hallway, waving at the torturing cultist.

  "Come on, asswipe, let's eat! I'm starving," shouted the yelling cultist again. The torturing cultist smiled at the man before leaving the room.

  The man looked around, spitting blood once more from all the punches, muttering as the torturer walked out, leaving a dead stench behind. The torturer closed the metal door behind him as he left the man alone, strapped in chains from the concrete wall, standing in his own pool of blood, almost fainting. He promised himself he wouldn't spill anything about who sent him or what their intention was, but he was barely holding on.

  After a few minutes, the torturer returned, holding a plate of meat and closing the door behind him. The man looked at him with disgust, knowing exactly what the meat was made of.

  "Looks like I'll be force-feeding you. Will be great fun..." said the cultist, smiling as he took a piece of meat and stuffed it in the man's mouth. He shook his head and tried to retaliate, but the cultist laughed hysterically.

  The parasite took action.

  The man's pupils dilated as sudden anger and adrenaline coursed through his body. He bit down on the meat that was force-fed to him, spitting it out, then bit the torturer's throat with his teeth, ripping off a chunk of his throat. The cultist continued to laugh hysterically, even as he held his throat and fell to the cement floor, hitting his head in the process.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The man ripped his chains off the wall with great force. It was not his doing but the parasite's, now only having one goal: to keep the host alive.

  He stomped on the cultist's head, silencing his laughter and killing him instantly. Grabbing the destroyed plate that the cultist had dropped, he smashed it. He grabbed a couple of sharp pieces, knowing that more cultists would storm in at any moment. He waited near the door frame, patiently. He heard his heartbeat clearer than the cultists' running through the hallway.

  The door suddenly opened as two cultists with weapons stormed in, yelling out to alert the others that the man had escaped and one of them was dead. The man quickly grabbed the cultist behind the other, stabbing him with the sharp plate piece, before grabbing the ancient Russian-issued AK-47 and spraying the man in front of him. The echo of the gunfire rang in his ears as he killed both of them. The noise of the bullets made his ears ring as the shots echoed through the entire hallway. He took magazines from the two corpses, hearing several sets of footsteps approaching. Aiming at the entrance, two more cultists arrived at the cell, only to be sprayed in the head. The man sprinted out of the cell, glancing both ways.

  To the left, more cultists were running toward him. He aimed down the sights and sprayed them down. One magazine was empty, but he still had plenty of ammo.

  He sprinted through the hallway, jumping over a small subway gate, taking cover near it. He knew there were more cultists on the other side. He waited for the perfect moment when he heard them say, "split up." He popped out of cover, spraying the whole squad with incredible accuracy. The noise of the bullets echoed so loudly that he had to cover his ears with pieces of cloth after he arrived at the gate. It didn't help much, but it was all he could do.

  After wiping out the squad, he remembered seeing several rooms with rotten zombies when he had been dragged into the cell. He headed further down the stairs, knowing the exit was in the opposite direction.

  He heard growling from the cells. The zombies were starting to stir. As he opened each cell, a bullet penetrated the locks. The zombies stormed out, completely ignoring him and heading upstairs, drawn by the scent of fresh blood and the sounds of yelling. The man looked at the horde, letting his weapon hang by a strap on his back.

  The noise from above continued as the zombies devoured the cultists' bodies. He scoffed before heading to the surface. He grabbed a gutted vehicle, with intestines hanging from the sides, and drove out of the huge crater, leaving the Barrens with speed. Eventually, the parasite ceased control, and the man muttered to himself.

  "The client won't be so happy about this..."