"Glad you had fun," Miles says with as much of a smile as he can muster. "Doesn't sound like my thing. That's some Edwin Hubble shit." Look, see, he has learnings, he knows stuff about things.
"Thanks. You really did me a solid here. I'm not gonna forget it. This thing's practically attached to my arm," he jokes.
He reaches for the camcorder, and when he takes hold of the strap, his fingers brush Tony's, and--
The creaky elevator descends down, down, down into a too-bright, too-pristine version of hell. A hell complete with demons.
And then he meets the Devil himself - Dr. Rudolf Wernicke.
A Nazi bastard whose research had been co-opted by the most corrupt megacorporation Miles ever knew of, the one he'd made it his mission to destroy. Even the fact that Wernicke is in his 90s and in a breath-activated wheelchair doesn't give Miles any sympathy - he still hates the bastard.
"Do you know what this symbol represents?" Wernicke's gone to a triquetra on the wall. "It warns of a nanohazard. Microscopic machines, technology we have had for decades, but never mastered. Murkoff discovered, in my research, a workaround. Turning the cells of human bodies into nanofactories. It's the natural function of cells to produce molecules, but through psychosomatic direction, we engineered the precise molecules necessary. Mind over body. It was foolish and wrong to think we could control it. To use madmen to control something so strong.
"You have to stop him, to murder Billy. Turn off his life support, his anesthesia. You have to undo what I've done. No one can get out of this place while he lives. You must kill him."
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"Thanks. You really did me a solid here. I'm not gonna forget it. This thing's practically attached to my arm," he jokes.
He reaches for the camcorder, and when he takes hold of the strap, his fingers brush Tony's, and--
The creaky elevator descends down, down, down into a too-bright, too-pristine version of hell. A hell complete with demons.
He watches the Walrider rip Chris Walker apart.
And then he meets the Devil himself - Dr. Rudolf Wernicke.
A Nazi bastard whose research had been co-opted by the most corrupt megacorporation Miles ever knew of, the one he'd made it his mission to destroy. Even the fact that Wernicke is in his 90s and in a breath-activated wheelchair doesn't give Miles any sympathy - he still hates the bastard.
"Do you know what this symbol represents?" Wernicke's gone to a triquetra on the wall. "It warns of a nanohazard. Microscopic machines, technology we have had for decades, but never mastered. Murkoff discovered, in my research, a workaround. Turning the cells of human bodies into nanofactories. It's the natural function of cells to produce molecules, but through psychosomatic direction, we engineered the precise molecules necessary. Mind over body. It was foolish and wrong to think we could control it. To use madmen to control something so strong.
"You have to stop him, to murder Billy. Turn off his life support, his anesthesia. You have to undo what I've done. No one can get out of this place while he lives. You must kill him."
The scene melts, changes - the Walrider is throwing him around like a piece of meat, like a cat playing with its food.
Miles runs when he's dropped, slams his hand on the failsafe deactivation pad, watching Billy die, and then the Walrider lifts him up, twenty, thirty feet off the ground, attacking him, impaling him, becoming part of him. It's painful, so painful, like pins and needles all over but a thousand times worse. One last attack. The final blow of a dying man.
(Or so he'd thought.)
When the Walrider's gone, he falls, all twenty feet, and he can feel his tibia snap. He rolls to his hands and knees...and the first thing he does is pick up his poor, tortured camcorder.
Miles jerks back, his grip on the strap white-knuckled. He's not going to drop it again.