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Erich Wyke

In an Alternate Reality, World War 2 was never won; it just ended in mutual destruction. In the remnants of post-nuclear civilization, Erich Wyke cannot forgive those who wronged him.

0 · 295 views · located in Deployment Bay

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nevan

Description

Image

True Name: Erich Wyke.
Test Number: #RM-072
Race: Human.
Age: This section has been scribbled over.

Health Condition: "The Subject is 'suffering' from Chronic Radiation-Mutation Syndrome from low exposure to radiation during his childhood. He is one of many interesting test subjects in that, rather than simply suffering from the degradation of health over a long period of time, the subject has developed some... Rather unusual abilities. His resistance to radiation has apparently increased, as tests show that contact with high amounts of Ionizing Radiation cause minimum short-term health problems." - Doctor Einbeck's journal, dated 15th February, 1967.

Abilities: "80% of subjects in the #RM research and development project are under constant surveillance and the extent of their 'abilities' is becoming really rather astounding.. Each a little different, but all equally amazing. #RM-072 is not only more resistant to pain and damage than Humans, but he seems able to 'poison' those he comes into physical contact with, apparently inflicting them with radiation sickness. Tests show that prolonged exposure is in fact deadly. We have outlawed the possibility of military training, as such individuals would be too dangerous." - Doctor Einbeck's journal, dated 1st March, 1967.

Weapons: "The stockmaster is reporting that over the cause of several weeks, a Walther P38 pistol, almost 20 rounds of ammunition and a bayonet blade have gone missing. Security is going to be tightened and all rooms searched. This greatly worries me, as an escape attempt isn't out of the question; there is only so much security we can implement in the post-nuclear world. What worries me even further, however, is subject #RM-072's talent for adaption - several tests have shown that he has the intelligence to improvise successfully where even the most hardened soldier cannot. I am certain he has something to do with the disappearance of the missing equipment..." - Doctor Einbeck's journal, dated 22nd August, 1967.

The remaining pages were torn out.

To be updated.

So begins...

Erich Wyke's Story

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#, as written by Nevan
Bang, bang, two dead. He rolled sideways into a next room, then forced his bayonet blade through a man who failed to ambush him in time. Pushing them over the table, only when the body hit the ground did he pull out and continue sprinting.

It wasn't long until he reached the stairs, and began to sprint up two at a time to reach the next floor up.

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#, as written by Nevan
Erich slammed the door open to the office... The only room on the fifth floor. It was empty, aside from the fact it looked like bombs had been placed in there; specifically designed to throw paper around as messily as possible.

The filing cabinets were destroyed, a waste-basket filled with scrunched up paper was on fire and a man had shot himself in the center of the room.

Erich surveyed the scene, then walked to the corpse and picked up a brown file, soaked in blood. He skimmed through a few of the pages, then sighed. He decided it was worth keeping, eventually slipping it into his coat and then making his way to the large window at the end.

He forced his gun-butt through the glass, then jumped out.

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#, as written by Nevan
Erich landed, on a bent knee, against the roof of a truck, rolled forwards and then slid down the window screen and bonnet and finally touched the ground.

He aimed his gun in the air, examined the bodies littering the ground, then fired three rounds into the night sky.

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#, as written by Nevan
He fired one final shot, an "acknowledgement" of her loud message. He then left the premises, disappearing into Wing City to find sleep, recuperation and study-time. He would look for that woman again, however... Tomorrow...

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#, as written by Nevan
Down by the docks, one of the many warehouses had been used to store shipments of crates, where workers would sort them and do tedious manual labour for a small wage. At the side of this main room, a set of metal stairs led up to a balcony, which wound clockwise to the second wall and stopped at a door with two, large glass windows.

Fifty years ago, it had been the office of the man who owned the Warehouse. Today, those windows had bedsheets hung over them from the inside, with planks of wood barricading them from behind. The door showed several signs of once being a sickly blue, but 99% of that paint had peeled off, leaving it brown underneath. The lock had also been broken off; replaced by a simple chain-and-padlock mechanism. The door was slightly ajar, and unlocked...

Inside, the small square room was occupied by a desk with several file-folders and sheets of paper scrawled messily on top, a chair, a refrigerator unit wired into the wall sockets, a commercially available porta-heater and in the corner, a single-size mattress, a thin blanket and a worn pillow.

Erich Wyke, in all his hooded-glory, was lying coiled on his side on this mattress and facing the wall.

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#, as written by Nevan
His eyes were suddenly open and his fingers coiled around a loaded Walther P38. He flicked his head a little to remove scruffy brown hair from his eyes, but kept his hood up as he slowly turned over, pushed himself to his feet and raised his weapon to where he heard the knock.

"Who is it?"

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#, as written by Nevan
He could pretty much guess who she was - after all, no-one aside from the individual he met in the factory could have tracked him down like that.

"Oh, it's you," he answered, while lowering his weapon. "What is it?"

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#, as written by Nevan
"It's not like it would make a difference, I surveyed this entire place thoroughly and I know my escape routes," he replied. He didn't lower his hood, but the light passed, for a moment, over a lower-face of stubble as he rubbed it with his hand.

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#, as written by Nevan
"I don't know why you want to, but fine, just don't try anything funny."

He approached the door, the pulled it inwards.

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#, as written by Nevan
"An 'offer'. I'm sure you do, though I doubt it's more important than what I'm doing already. You're not going to end up begging, are you?"

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#, as written by Nevan
"Fine, I'm listening."

He sat himself back down on the mattress, then leaned back against the wall.

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#, as written by Nevan
"... Go on.." He began, his interest perking a little, as was he.

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#, as written by Nevan
"So in exchange for intel, I would be doing your dirty work?"

Honestly, he had expected a hurdle like this to come up eventually. "I suppose I'll see what I can do," he answered, "though I would hate to promise anything."

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#, as written by Nevan
"It sounds the same to me," he retorted, while rubbing his eyes with a gloved hand. "Like I said, I'll see what I can do. Just don't rely on me if I don't specifically say I'll do a job."

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#, as written by Nevan
"And by that, I assume you mean that you'll procrastinate finding him until you get bored of me, right?" He asked with something of a smirk.

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#, as written by Nevan
"Oh, you won't find him. He doesn't exist on any document anywhere in this world - he exists only as a ghost; he leaves a shadow in his facilities that can never be removed. All of these facilities are now public buildings - offices, museums - very smart way to detract attention from himself. You can find the facilities, but you can't find him unless I'm there to recognize his face."

"Or are you agreeing to put 24 hour surveillance on all of these locations on the very slim chance that a man matching my description shows up on camera?"

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#, as written by Nevan
"I'll tell you exactly what I'm requesting: I'm requesting that instead of looking for a man nearly impossible to find, you instead look for the locations he's used in the past, so that I - during my free time - can investigate further."

He stood up, reaching out with his gloved hand to take hold of Emily's arm. "I'm also asking for simple surveillance - a camera over the main entrance of sites I specify, just in case he returns to one of them. You have computers that can do all that for you, right?"

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#, as written by Nevan
"Doesn't seem like much to ask, if I'm perfectly honest. Well, not that it bothers me. While your organization's resources would be valuable to me, I have made it this far on my own."

He closed his eyes, then continued to speak. "Still, feel free to leave. It's not like I was the one who came to you, after all."

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#, as written by Nevan
The wink, that odd comment at the end of her reply...

"Are you trying to hit on me, Miss...?" He realized he had no idea what her name was, so he checked the card handed to him for some form of ID.

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#, as written by Nevan
"I'm afraid that's impossible," he answered her. "Physical contact with me would kill you. I... Leak ionizing radiation, you could say."