Archive of Our Own

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The mission had been to investigate dangerous activity in the area and report it to the higher ups. Hearing radio messages just outside of the Raccoon City of disturbing accounts that were witnessed. Sightings on Arklay Mountains that were more than vague when the orders reached the task force known as S.T.A.R.S.An already disturbing amount of information had been left out from the report they were all instructed to listen to. It had been made as simple as possible, nothing to delve deeper into, ‘search the mountains’. For what reason, who would they have to rescue, questions asked lead to them being classified information.Nearby the city, it was almost entirely unheard of to hear that their urgent mission was to search the Raccoon Forest. Not to watch the streets or to give aid to the Raccoon Police Department, it was to go out in the middle of nowhere.It should have sent immediate alarm bells, flashing red lights for the young S.T.A.R.S. member, yet she had a job, she would do it. A task force had been selected, the very one that Rebecca worked a part of had been chosen and soon after ordered to leave post-haste.It had been a rough approach to get onto the mountain, their helicopter suddenly crashing down from high above the trees, abandoning them onto the mountains surface without advantage. Yet once they landed, they learned quickly that this mission may have more than the higher ups kept silent.As part of the S.T.A.R.S. , they were all more than enough to inspect their surroundings with all authority. Each and every one of them were strong and resourceful, none of them were weak. Strong willed, just as RPD enjoyed to recruit, to inadvertently destroy each of their futures.The sight in which they landed had been one of unfortunate ends.There were sure signs of people having been around, at a time. A police escort vehicle was found empty of any survivors, tipped onto it’s back, all of it’s passengers were long deceased.A file that Rebecca had found from inside the vehicle contained information of a ‘Billy Coen’ , written on the file that he is to be executed. He was nowhere to be found near the police vehicle.Suspecting that they were here for the escaped prisoner, that had been one of the task force’s second mistake. The first being that they believed that they would get out of this unscathed.That all lead to where Rebecca was at that very moment. Trapped on a train with the escaped felon, ex-military lieutenant known as Billy Coen.Being less than welcoming and cocky in initially treating her, more of a pain in her ass, he didn’t abandon her when she had nearly been attacked. What could you trust of an escaped prisoner, he was dangerous. However, regardless of knowing that he may back-stab her at any moment, they agreed to work together for the time being. That she will shoot him if he were to cross her.Screeching of wheels and the cries of metal outside broken glass, the train had revived itself just as the corpses that rose again.The train begun to speed down the tracks, too fast, they would surely crash any minute if they didn’t stop it. They wouldn’t have long.Trees of the forest outside the reach of the train’s carriages, nobody and nothing could save their fall if they were to leap off if they wanted to. Deciding to explore the train further, the two became a pair.What a pair they were.Billy did well in protecting Rebecca from harms way and Rebecca using her knowledge for medicines to save him from infection. Saving her each and every time, her healing him after every other fight. Standing in front of her to prevent the monsters that inhabited the train from getting to her, her staying on defense during every encounter with her own pistol.He knew she didn’t fully trust him, she told him so, yet he was insistent. Getting to the point that she couldn’t ignore that, perhaps, something was fishy about the report she had read about him from the police vehicle.From zombies to insect like black sludge attacking them, Billy didn’t leave Rebecca to fend for herself. It had to do with him being a former lieutenant, assessing situations and choosing the best option for the next encounter.To Rebecca, it felt like an hour that they were exploring the train’s cars and finding new information inside the luggages. There was something very, very wrong about this train ride in particular. The notes said as such, more vague undertones that more was at play than a simple explore-and-rescue mission.The task force hadn’t been informed for why they were sent out here, that was not a good thing.Even madder monsters appeared, one of a scorpion like beast attacked Billy while they were temporarily separated. Massive black sludge knocked them around, all around the upper and inside of the carriages. The most odd part was that they had both seen a man, high up on cliffs, watching them.Was he to do with this. Who is he and why did he look entirely unaffected as everything else around them, weird creatures trying to kill the pair. Were the three of them the only ones that were alive out here, is no one left. What happened to Rebecca’s task force, her captain, it all sounds unlikely.The ear piercing metals scraping on each other were deafening in the hallways of the cabins. Almost every window had been broken. The ones that weren’t didn’t leave much comfort to be felt as they caught their breath and healed from their previous battle against new enemies around them.After each fight against zombies that refused to stay down, even the deep scratches from their jagged nails weren’t easily brushed off anymore. Cutting long and some through deep tissue, able to see muscle contracting inside the gaping wound she looked into. Billy was a soldier, he didn’t wince in the beginning. Though he started to heavily sigh as disinfectant poured inside the gashes.Billy was patient, Rebecca respected him little by little, crushing green herbs into the gashes while listening to their next plan of action.The longer they ran, solving all sorts of puzzle like obstacles in their way, they were getting more tired. The adrenaline was running fast and so was their medical supply.Due to the lack of focus, stressing about the environment on and off the train, Rebecca’s attention had been dragged away for just a moment.Rebecca had been scratched across her back, not hearing the approach of a mad dog leaping onto her. A Cerberus knocking the wind from her lungs as he collapsed onto her chest. Her focus hadn’t been far away for too long, but the teeth of the zombie canine clamped down on the back of her neck, and it tore.Chunks of flesh, she could feel it ripping off of her, be torn apart and small knives chomping on her shoulder again. Screams were echoing off the small room they were inside of, it had been in a flash that the attack took place but Rebecca felt every second of it as the canine breathed it’s deathly pants next to her ear.Her heart pounding out of control, fire flaming on her back, the nails of Cerberus scratching, searching, as if she were a dirt, digging a hole through her.The canine was stronger than any she had met before. The RPD had many canines under their watch, she had never been attacked by one. A thought went through her mind in a flash, not one that she wanted to have.Am I about to die?She had never been this scared before, smelling the rotting flesh of the zombie canine, mixing it’s slobber with her bleeding shoulder. Warmth slid down her neck, blood came out in heated trails. In her limited movement, the canine didn’t struggle to keep itself secure on her spine.Growls of the monster with vicious bites to her shoulder as she tried to elbow the beast off. Only causing the creature be angrier after each sinking of it’s sharp teeth.Each second ticked by as the canine worked in great speed. It was hungry. No, starved. What did they do to this animal. Was it even the humans that were supposed to care for it. Was it the virus, that excruciating hunger to devour.Billy kicked Cerberus off of her back, shots being fired with dog’s whimpers echoing in the room as hers did. After came the wet collapse of a small body hitting the floor.Rebecca was writhing on the floor, the back of her neck was on fire and tingled the same. Something felt wrong, but that may have been the fact that when she touched the back of her neck, jagged flesh where her skin should be was left behind. Little had been left behind after the jaws had taken what it pleased.It startled Rebecca greatly, tears pouring out of her eyes from the pain and the foreign feeling of her own body. It hurt, yet she crawled to the wall to lean her back against it. Billy helped her get comfortable on the floor, asking how badly she had been hurt.“I’m fine.” Rebecca answered. “It’s just a bite, I’ll be alright.”She went into autopilot, pulling out her first-aid to find that she had three small green herbs left, a first-aid spray, and bandages.Shaky fingers picked up one of the green herb and crushed it in her other palm. Making it fine before sprinkling it over the wound on her neck. She didn’t think for a good few minutes as her body went on to deal with the trauma, letting her stay in her thoughts of panic.As Rebecca finished coating her injuries in green herbs, she couldn’t see but she could feel it. The maw of that monstrous canine had taken far more than she had thought. It felt incredibly weird to her. Putting her fingers somewhere where there should be nothing wrong, a hole was left behind. Blood spreading out from all angles and giving an ominous warmth to her neck.Taking a guess, the rapid attacked from Cerberus had taken two inches of skin off of her back alone, not including the scratches and snapping of her shoulder. That had been out of anger, the missing flesh was from it’s mad starvation.Her heart dropped in her chest. If the canine was infected just as the others, she may have been infected the same.Thinking up ways to bring up the fact, Rebecca felt stuck as she listened to Billy ask what he needed to do to help her. Billy wasn’t unexperienced, Rebecca could tell that he was trying to get her out of her head, get her to start talking, make sure that she hasn’t broken.“I might be infected…” Rebecca blurted out. Billy’s face froze, looking at her shoulder then back at her. “It’s not…may not be safe for you to stick around me. At least until we find out… I can’t see how bad the damages are, but I know they aren’t good.”Billy looked at the canine, the small collection of blood left behind from the shots from his gun. Lifeless and dead, it shouldn’t come back up.“Well let me take a look. I’ll tell you.” Billy moved in closer. As much as she appreciated the help, she didn’t trust him. He may be getting the advantage to shoot dead before she turns or worse, she spreads the contagion.“No, we don’t know with certainty how contagious this thing is.” Rebecca leaned away from him, not wanting him to come in contact with contaminated wounds.Billy sighed and pointed at his injured arm, wrapped up in gauze and a line of blood showing that it continues to bleed, though a less alarming amount.“Well I don’t know if you remember this, but, this isn’t the first time we have been attacked by these things, and I feel perfectly fine. I’m sure you will be the same, let me take a look for you if you are scared.”Billy reached out and gently took Rebecca’s arm to pull her off the wall. Rebecca fought against his hand that tried to guide her towards him.“That’s because they weren’t directly injecting any of their infection into us. With saliva, it’s far easier to transmit something, especially as we don’t know exactly how all of this start.” Rebecca had stopped crying though her cheeks remained wet. The pain was subsiding thanks to the green herbs. “It’s not a wild guess to assume that this isn’t a good thing.”Billy shook his head and begun to stand up.“Ok, if you want to be that way.” Billy checked the way that they came and the direction in which they were going. “We will just have to wait and see I guess. For now, we have to get to the front of this train.”Rebecca stared at him for a moment, questioning what he had said.Though he was acting cold as before, he didn’t move away from where he stood. Refusing to stare at her. The hint of the words ‘I won’t leave you behind’.They needed each other more than anything. Neither could escape while the other was incapacitated. Rebecca couldn’t fight off the zombies by herself and Billy couldn’t go around while being a wanted fugitive. She needed to keep an eye on him, make sure to keep a look out for the suspicions that rose up in her head.The green herbs did the best that they could in repairing the nerve endings that sent waves of agony. The ache in her shoulder wasn’t gone, and the slacked shoulder in it’s socket lay limp, but the pain had subsided. The canine was put down, hopefully taken off to a better place.Billy lead the way down the hallways, resuming their escape.What remained of the zombies that wouldn’t stay down were low, there weren’t many that came back up anymore once their heads exploded. Taking note of this, the pair learned to take as a sign of a permanent fix for them all.The air in the cabins were cold, stuffed with stale air of old perfume from it’s once rich residents. At the time when they would be jumped by more creatures, Billy had been faster in taking care of them. Depleting their stock of ammunition, they wouldn’t have much left if they didn’t stop this train and fast. Providing the rest of her own bullets to Billy to help, even as her mind drifted off every so often.Winds outside whistled past broken panes of glass, these tracks didn’t lead to just anywhere, there was an end they quickly approached.Dodging the attacked of some monsters, still, some managed to injure Billy little by little.Rebecca tried her best to portion out the rations of the green herb, but it wasn’t helping the bleeding. At that point, Billy must have worse blood loss than Rebecca with part of her back and shoulder missing.She could still feel the trickles of blood running down her back like sweat. Almost believing it to be so, until she scratched at the tickling trickle to find her fingers coated red. The green herb may have stopped the pain, the bleeding had been slowed down rather than stopped entirely.Covering Billy’s wounds in a safe room, Rebecca was growing weary. Finding that her eyes drifted shut when she blinked a bit too slowly. Blinking her eyes wide and licking her lips, trying to bring herself back to wakefulness.They were nearly there, they had the key card to the front of the train. All they needed to do was walk outside to get to the door in question. The catwalk like hallway to reach the system to halt the engine. Simple.Leaving the safe room, the pair left to get to the front of the train, finally having everything to end this dreadful train ride.Opening the door with the key card, the two walked out together. Billy staying closer to Rebecca than she would have liked until she thought she heard something. She couldn’t quite name it, the wind casting their hearing into walls of deafness, quieting any conversations or creatures that lurked ahead of them.More monsters there were, along with two unknown individuals wearing combat gear laying dead on the steel grated flooring of the platform. The monsters on the platform with the pair were taken out, one falling over the ledge of the balcony.Both Rebecca and Billy sprinted to the door ahead, they both entered the front of the train safely. The sliding door firmly shutting itself with air tight sealing.It was time to stop this hell ride.Something was different. They couldn’t pull the brakes and none of the buttons functioned. There were papers all over, then finding instruction on how to pull the brakes, but they would need to separate to do it.“I’ll go over to the back deck and manipulate the control panel to the break, then you apply the break from here. Ok?” Billy spoke.“Alright.” Rebecca said, her voice a bit faint.Turning to leave out of the room, Rebecca stopped him before he bolted out of the room. She could feel the clock ticking over her head, telling her to spend her time wisely and not fool around while every second counted. Regardless of their depleting seconds, Rebecca felt she had to speak.It may have been the car’s vast speed, Rebecca’s head felt fuzzy and couldn’t figure out if her balance was good or bad. Writing it off as being in the front of the train, Rebecca spoke.“Billy.” He stopped at hearing her voice. A second later, thinking of what to say, she softly said “Be careful.”Was what she had been able to come up with. They had one last green herb left and a first-aid spray. Again, he was taking it all into his hands to go back out there, traverse the waves of zombies that inched towards them with spit coating their chins. Not a hint of humanity left behind their dead eyes.“… Yeah.” Billy said with a nod before leaving.The door opened then shut, leaving Rebecca alone in the front of the train.They hadn’t known one another long whatsoever, Rebecca trusted him with this. She knew that he would succeed in this and nothing would happen to him while on his way there.Moving back to the instruction that were left behind for the breaks, Rebecca tried as she could to read the pages. There were words and, oddly enough, numbers. They were a sequence of repeated numbers with small variations but there were so many. Once the proper code would be inserted, then the break lock would be opened. Allowing them to finally stop this death trap, for them to get out of this place.Placing her hands on the desk like surface, Rebecca’s legs were getting wobbly. Speeding down the tracks towards their death, that was why she wasn’t feeling good.Touching the back of her neck, the place that lacked any flesh, what had been replaced was a concave of what used to be, it stung. It felt to her like wires were being pulled around the area, spreading outsides and up her neck. If she knew any better, she would have noticed that her body temperature had risen greatly.Sweat was soaking through her clothes and running over her skin. Making everything that much more unbearable than before.The room was on fire, she believed, which was why she felt sick.Searching for a water bottle she may not have lost, she saw her clothes. Not only was she covered in sweat, parts of her exposed hands had changed in color. The light in the room that she was in was dim and multi-colored lights blaring all around her. Blinding her and causing discomfort to her eyes, forcibly closing themselves from the rays of light assaulting her vision.The walkie-talkie started to buzz, her ears ringing to the beat of her heart. Pounding in her chest as she heard the clear instructions from Billy to pull the switch.Coming back to herself, she looked back to the control panel in front of her. Part of the screen was broken and couldn’t show what the left side said.Remembering she needed to use numbers, a lot of them, Rebecca chose to try the first set of numbers that was written down. Entering the code, it was declined.Sighing out a breath, trying to calm her pacing heart rate, Rebecca attempted the next set of numbers. Coming back false again, the clock looming over her ticked by as she entered the one after that.Clicking enter, it worked. It accepted the codes that were provided and now all she had to do was pull the lever.Grabbing hold of the brakes, Rebecca begun to push. It was hardly moving at all.Panic struck deep in her chest, she had to stop the train. If not for herself, for Billy. Even if he were to have done unspeakable things, she was here to save everyone, he was the last of them. Her team now, assumingly, dead. He would be the last person that she could save.Rebecca believed in justice, but not a death sentence or force him to a fate of demise. He needs to get off this train and get out of here while he still can. He was an asshole, then she saw different parts of him which changed her thinking. Something was wrong, and she wanted to help him get out of this mess, one way or another.Yet here she was, pushing with the last of her might against the lever, it slugged it’s way closer and closer to where it needed to be. To make this train stop from derailing or crashing into something.Letting out a frustrated groan, Rebecca’s sweat covered arms shook while putting the last of her strength into pushing that lever. It was close. She was almost there.“Shit!” Rebecca cursed, not thinking clearly as the door to the room slid open. Stomping of foot steps were barely heard, she could hear a voice call out.“Here!” Billy, it was him.Thank god.Rebecca thought, he was alright. He would be alright.Billy grabbed the lever from the other side and pulled it the rest of the way towards him. Clicking into place, Rebecca immediately heard and felt the vibrations of the metals wheels be forced to break. The room shook too, launching them both towards the glass as the momentum started to abrupt their stability.Rebecca landed roughly on the desk and coughed out a pained sigh.“Oh no…” was what Rebecca heard over the sound of metal grinding.Pushing herself up on the desk with her weakened arms, they were approaching a crossroads of tracks. Seeing the split tracks approaching at a definite unsafe speed, Rebecca looked over at Billy. His face was of shock, eyes widened and jaw slack.It took a moment for the strings to attach to one another, taking but a second for her ignorance to let her breath comfortably, they were too late.Rebecca couldn’t pull the breaks in time. Scanning over her person, perhaps she could find something to get them both to stop this impending crash, all she had on her was her last green herb and the first-aid spray. She had given the last of her ammunition to Billy beforehand in the safe room. It almost felt mocking. Seeing that the last thing she would hold on her person wouldn’t be able to safe herself or the fugitive.“No.” Rebecca said with tears, almost childishly as she couldn’t believe the massive misstep that she had made. The wound on her back had quieted down, letting her have her last few moments without pain…before it would come crashing in on her.Hands grabbed her shoulder roughly and spun her around. Rebecca gasped, ready to throw punched into the gut of whatever zombie would devour her, though it brought great comfort to see that it was, again, Billy.Arms wrapped around her back while his hands held her against his chest.Confused at first, Rebecca didn’t understand if he was giving her a hug or a trying to kill her. Though it took some thought, it came back to her that Billy was a lieutenant and those people he ‘killed’ were possibly his teammates that he couldn’t save.It wasn’t a gesture of affection but one of comfort, more of a superior saying ‘while we go out, we go together’. Rather to do it beside someone than all alone. Before the train would crash, speeding towards both of their fates, Rebecca wrapped her own arms around the back of Billy. She was terrified but knowing that she wasn’t alone, they would both be going through it at the same time, it let a calm wash over her.They both held one another tight, even as the first rock from the train’s derailment begun.The floor felt as if it had been ripped out from under them. Closing her eyes firmly, taking one last deep breath, it started.The train hit the corner of the turn much harder than it could have ever handled. This caused the train to shoot up off the tracks, making it slam onto it’s side with a quaking boom around the Raccoon Forest.Rebecca and Billy didn’t let go of the other as both of them crashed onto the wall, now floor. Glass shattering all around her ears, and great earthquakes caused by the train crashing into tree after tree. The train carts behind the one they were currently in forced their own to spin about out of control. Getting itself knocked around, shaking it’s occupants madly with furniture and their bodies being hit by firm corners and sharp points.Hit after hit of each tree uprooted each one. Branches crashing inside to join in the madness. The two bodies were knocked around the room, sliding around atop glass and blood giving smooth gliding atop the surface they rolled in.With each slam of furniture and branches that struck them, they held strong onto the other. When the chair flew down onto the back of Rebecca’s knee, she could almost hear the break of her bones in her body. Glass sinking deeper into her body, making room for itself inside her. Blooming new sorts of pains as they inched deeper as her body landed over itself again and again. Breaking her body open like a prize awaited inside.A child putting a fish inside a glass and shaking it with their tiny strength, the fish would never survive. The child does not know what life is, and neither does this train.It was a shock how many hits Rebecca was able to experience before she could feel her body locking up involuntarily. Choking on her own breath as her heart hit back with it’s own misery, sending her pulse through her body to make sure she wouldn’t fall unconscious. Wakeful through it all.A firey pit, a pool of acid, a car crash. None of those things could compare to the absolute terror that wrecked through her very soul. She could feel her throat screaming but not a sound of it reached her. It could have been the glass slicing open her throat, that would cause the intense burn and strain as she tried to keep sanity.A slow yet steady finish ended with both Rebecca and Billy jolting to a stop at the final tree the train hit.Quiet. The train did not groan, did not move, did not make a sound. It was over.Rebecca’s eyes opened after a moment of silence. Questioning if she was still moving and being her imagination or it was really over.It all lasted thirty seconds, in that short amount of time, it felt like she was looking through the eyes of someone who had died. Or a movie, witnessing more than experiencing it herself. Being told the narrative than to feel it in reality.The pain she felt deep in her spine wasn’t her feeling, it was fake. The freezing cold air breezing over her back wasn’t real, it was fake. None of this could be possible, so why entertain it, she thought. She couldn’t feel a thing, it was as blank as a crumpled sheet of paper. Such as a dream, you think you really experience the pain, your body will tell you all sorts of things, then you wake up.Rebecca, on her side in Billy’s arms, rolled onto her back easily. There was no grip that kept her near, not a peep from the fugitive that held her through all the imaginary pains.Staring up at the ceiling, the opposite end of the wall, seeing not a shred of glass clinging to the frame. There were branched creeping in.With great strain, Rebecca leaned her head upwards to look down at herself. She could still use the first-aid spray on Billy and the green herbs on herself. She didn’t feel anything, besides the pain that her mind ignored, she could heal her wounds and move along the path of saving the citizens of Raccoon City.Looking down at her body, there would be great waiting that would need to be done in order to heal from this injury.Down on her body, every single aspect of her looked foreign, except for her uniform. That too had been torn to shreds, some torn off soaked entirely in red as she couldn’t tell if it were her insides or her shirt. Her legs were both broken.The bone sticked out obscenely at the knee with tendon laying on her skin like snapped rope.Her other had no bone sticking out but the amount of angles on both thigh and shin were disturbed. Sharp corners and black bruises swallowing her leg whole by the second from the newly created windows in her pants.Rebecca’s torso was fine, except for the shards of glass that slipped through the gaps and sliced her open. As mentioned, she couldn’t tell if it were cloth or intestines that were sticking out. It was a texture that she couldn’t recognize, too foreign in her disoriented dreamlike mind.The arms were worse of all.Having been wrapped around Billy to hold onto, the trauma of them hadn’t come to mind as she had been thrown around like a doll.Her right wrist barely hung onto to skin as it had been torn off on the other end, white melted in with the deep reds that sprouted from it. Useless fingers with squirts of blood springing out of her gaping hand. The fingers broken in lines from having her fists clenched tight, perfect to make straight corners break in their own lines.What happened to her left hand was a mystery, hidden underneath the body of Billy. From the damage she could see, had glass shards embedded inside of her bicep. Broken pieces dug inside, she would need tweezers to extract them from her arm. She would need a hand to hold the tweezers.Trailing her eyes up, she met the cold blank eyes of Billy. They were open but they were out of focus, staring off in his own world. Stuck in his own head…Rebecca let a shaky breath escape her while a tear slid down her cheek.Billy was dead.His body didn’t look any better than hers.Though he was dead, blood cascaded from his hairline and dripped to the broken glass floor. Small ‘plink’s after eat drop of red. A large pool started to pool around his head, spreading out. Spreading out to meet her own.Her mouth tasted of metal, iron she knew it to be, it collected at the back of her throat but now staring at Billy… It dribbled past her broken lips as she stared at his relaxed expression.Her vision felt shady. Growing fainter each second that she knew ticked by over her head. Her pounding head that begged, pleaded for her to close her eyes.Rebecca wanted to, she really did, let her body take course and take a rest. Feeling no pain, she felt exhausted anyways. Licking her bloodied lips, they didn’t give the after taste of disgust which peaked her interest.The veil was closing, forever shutting what should have been, yet she knew her body had it’s own plans for after she would drift off to sleep.Laying there on the floor, surrounded by crushed hope, poisoned futures, no justice as for ‘why’.She was hungry.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They were everywhere.

Outside in the forest, there were canines attacking one officers. The foamed mouths feasting on their kills, savoring their successful take down of those who came between these trees.

Unstoppable as they were, running towards a mansion — not far away from the forest — the rabid dogs were stopped by the big doors that slammed shut as three officers fled to safety. The scratches behind the door sounded around the S.T.A.R.S. group that managed to make it inside.

Jill Valentine, one of it’s members, noticed that Chris Redfield was nowhere to be seen in the large open room. A stair case leading up, he too wasn’t magically there. He had to have made it into the mansion, he had been right beside her.

The idea that those canines were tearing through her friend couldn’t be entertained, they needed to assume that he made it in, somewhere.

Being separated from the orders of their captain, Jill came across the living dead feasting on an officer in a small room connected to a hallway. Firing at it meant nothing, the stench emanating off of it’s person was atrocious. Wafting towards her with it’s arms extended outward.

Forced to flee, Jill left the fight behind. Neither the walking corpse nor the one on the floor were Chris.

Jill hadn’t experienced this before, seeing the bullets hit her target yet not be affected at all. Watching as blood poured out from the holes in it’s chest, something was very off about this place. She needed backup.

Backup she got from her fellow teammate Barry was one of the many things that happened that night. Discovering that the mansion they were searching through was much more than that.

The rooms in the mansion were peculiar. One with a statue in the center of the room holding a key. A bathtub that, once drained, had another one of those murderous living dead residing in the makeshift coffin. Even more concerning, the graveyard behind the building had a secret passageway that lead downwards.

Searching through the room at the bottom of the steps, a coffin hovered over a portion of the room. Rocking back and forth as she watched.

As much as she would assume that they were innocents, the track record of this mansion, it was incredibly unlikely in her eyes. It was not a subject she wanted to delve into. With it being hung up, out of causing harm, Jill left the crypt behind. Keeping note of the oddly carved statued faces, facing and watching the coffin sway.

Puzzles. Puzzles was another oddity that perplexed her thoughts. Why would this mansion, in the middle of the forest, far away from the city, have so many damned puzzles. Did the occupants of this house
want
people to never be able to explore…or leave.

Deeper she explored the mansion, the deeper the mysteries spun themselves into knots. Tangling and mixing in with what she knew of this mansion, which was not much.

There were rooms that she entered that contained experiments, chemicals, notes of research. Some disturbing and shivered her to the bone. It became common to find notes of just what she thought. People desperately wanted to get out of this mansion.

The doors that couldn’t be opened, locked with a symbol on the door resembling the armor that a knight may wear or carry. A door with a helm, one with a shield, more that she had found while exploring the hallways.

Trying the doors that she could, many were simply empty of needed information. Not a clue or hint of the whereabouts of her colleague, Chris.

Jill would have heard screams from behind the front doors or through the windows by the entrance they burst into. He had to be alive, she told herself. How did he disappear. They were all together for a matter of seconds, what went wrong.

Asking questions to herself and to the rooms that she looked over for clues, she found all but helpful things. One of which, foolishly, was a broken shotgun. Rusted over near the trigger, the barrel stuffed with a soot like substance, there was no use for this useless piece of junk.

Carrying it on her person, she decided that she may be able to fix it, somehow. Or perhaps it was used for a puzzle. For now, Jill tucked it into the storage box that lay in one of the few safe rooms she came across.

Those rooms felts comforting, a peace inside the madness. Whoever had built this place, they were either mad themselves or were ordered to make it such.

The furniture in the rooms were bland from time. Dust and cobwebs were between cabinets and candles. Not many people were welcomed to use the bedrooms, Jill could tell. Sitting on one of the mattresses, a clear imprint of disturbed dust had been wiped off of the sheets from her resting for a moments breath.

The undead roamed some of the halls. Trying her best to maneuver around them, lead them away to go behind them, bullets didn’t do anything to them.

Room after room that was explored, Jill could hear whispering just far enough for her not to be able to hear them. Hoping to be the owners or people of sound mind, rounding the corner, they were gone.

It couldn’t have been her imagination, she distinctively heard whispers of one or two men.

Calling out Chris’ name, no one answered. The walls were all that heard her calls for her fellow teammate.

To her shock, Jill had found some living members from the previous team that was sent out before Jill’s. Coming across them one by one, some barely hung on long enough to warn Jill of the dangers around the corner. Each one died before she could help them.

If it weren’t for the complicated layout and the confusing puzzles, Jill could have done this all in a manner of ten minutes. As it were, the mansion was crowded with antique pieces of furniture, strewn about like symbols of status and not to be used.

Not one of the bedrooms on the west side of the mansion looked to be the grand bedroom. Each one, truly, looked the same as the last. The undead roaming the halls and the rooms were all of any sort of proof anyone lived here.

The lights didn’t all work, forcing Jill to enter rooms blinded in search of a switch or use her lighter. On more than one occasion did one of those undead things try to attack her. Stabbing a blade into their necks to escape their craws that reached for her face.

More exploration lead to more papers detailing the horrors that occurred behind these walls, for years…years.

Thinking to herself, Jill couldn’t think back on a time that she heard
any
sort of word even close to what was written down on those pages. Some persons sick joke, yet here she stood, in the middle of a mansion, stuck inside, and no idea what was happening.

Scoffing to herself, it sounded almost similar to some of the papers that she had read. People, according to what she’s found, came in but never left.

Jill hadn’t searched through all of the rooms, the rest of them were locked. Her next option was to go to the east wing. She had looked through that section of the mansion too intensely, there must be something over there. More room, more puzzles, more keys, answers.

The stairways of the west wing were to be ignored for now, no longer stressing for a hand to pop out from the bars to grab hold of her. In exchange for whatever lay on the other side of the mansion.

Undead canines leaped through the windows of the hallway Jill walked into. Pulling out her handgun at the sight of them both sprinting towards her, Jill dodged their snapping teeth. Their jaws clamping down on air and ringing loud. They were vicious animals, nothing like the canines back at the police station.

Firing her weapon into the bodies of the two dogs, they whimpered as they fell backwards to the stone floor. Although they continued to get back up, Jill chose to run to the other end of the hallway around the corner.

Bursting through the door and closing it shut, slams of bodies wailing on the door behind her vibrated up her back.

Keeping her handgun at the ready, Jill started to inspect the rooms. Some had locks for the keys she had found, opening them and finding rooms with more clues as to what the mansion really was. Small hints that were read on bloodied papers, trap doors if you didn’t function the control of the puzzles right. A piano that once played Moonlight Sonata would unlock a small room with a golden shield.

Picking up the shield, the entrance that she had used to get inside closed firmly, refusing to let her leave.

Punching the wall, pushing her shoulder against the it, it had been sealed shut.

Confused, Jill tried to return the shield back to it’s place on the mantle. Just like that, the door reopened.

Jill had to think to herself. She had seen something similar to the shield she was in front of then. Where had she seen it and why would it be important.

Leaving the small room, Jill retraced her way back to the west wing of the mansion. It had to be from there, she hadn’t yet explored greatly the east wing.

Recalling exactly where she had seen the design, Jill sprinted back to dinning room while dodging the dog’s angry chase.

Above the fireplace was a wooden shield with the same design. Lifting it off of the mantle had no reaction. No surprise doors being shut and no ill intentions from the walls.

Making her way back to the piano room, firing more of her bullets at the canines, Jill pulled off the gold shield to replace it with the wooden one. It worked. Another puzzle solved…almost.

Jill figured that she would replace the golden shield back where the wooden one had been.

Tired of the constant back and forth from one wing to another, Jill focused on permanently putting down the dogs. Shooting them as many times as she needed for them to stay down.

Correct she was about the golden shield, it unlocked the grandfather clock that would lead from one contraption to the next. Pulling her along to play the game that the walls wanted to inflict.

When the last of the tricks were finished, Jill needed to finish searching the east wing. There were more rooms she needed to visit.

Yet time after time, there were distractions that couldn’t depart from the agent’s thoughts. Leading down alternate roads of thought and route. Turning the corner to go down the next length of doorways, item and clues popped up all around her. Begging to be inspected.

It wasn’t solely the items or scrambled footnotes that she found that told her something was different. It was her own teammates.

Jill knew that they were all ordered to split up but Barry had begun to act weird, even going back to that morning.

Especially running into him in the hallway, he looked distracted and tensed while speaking with Jill. Barry was a good man, he was reliable. So when he refused to mention that there were any problems, no lead on Chris’ whereabouts, Jill begun to suspect something being amiss.

It hadn’t only been Barry that stuck out, Wesker himself seemed…different somehow. It was difficult to put her finger on it, she couldn’t think what it was. Of course Albert Wesker being their captain meant needing to know what to do next on a dime, how is it he looked unphased by what was going on. Almost confident.

Jill knew Wesker to be a peculiar superior, always watching with his sunglass sitting on his nose. Causing difficulty in reading him, his expression shrouded in mystery. Thinking if something was off with him as well had been brushed aside by his already odd demeanor.

After all, he had been in the military before them, Chris and herself being more rookies than anything. Perhaps something happened in his past for him to be as he acted now.

Though Wesker was their active captain, Jill found that she ran more into Barry than the other. Wanting to ask her captain questions as for what he had been able to see when Chris disappeared. What she had found in the papers she tucked in her pocket. Wesker surely would know more than any of them, what was going on in this mansion far off from the city.

The undead that roamed the halls weren’t fast, they limped their way closer to Jill. Never being quick enough to take a bite out of her. As for the canines, they were sneaky. What gave them away was their paws patting on the surface of the tiles, able to fire at them enough to finally put them down.

Windows broken in and far off away from the mansion were moans from the dead. The graveyard just outside the mansion had been unusual. Estates in the area were old, these graves weren’t from that long ago however.

Each thing that Jill thought about concerning these circumstances, stopped and questioned herself, it didn’t settle well in her gut.

On the second floor of the mansion, Jill could see a building close by. Most probably part of the estate and not a neighbor. Not to mention the pool that could be clearly seen. The lights of the moon and the light posts nearby it making the water glimmer and ripple delicately.

Weather stations hadn’t mentioned if there would be a great storm but the winds were enough for cracks in the structure to groan.

Regardless of the undead monsters all around her, the mansion didn’t feel welcoming. Looking past the ominous paintings that were around, the odd traps, misplaced rooms. The idea for this mansion had reason, surely not to be lived in, became more believable.

The notes she collected, the clues of malicious activities happening inside these very walls, was it really a coincidence that they were here that night.

Battling a massive snake like beast, Jill couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. A freak of nature like that, how long had it been here. It looked no more special than a reptilian from the woods, what happened to it.

The officer who had been injured, right outside the door, had burst in to save Jill. A foolish thing, he didn’t need to do that. Though, he may have known he wouldn’t make it out of this place alive. Another soldier that would be left behind while she left to explore.

The higher up in the mansion she got, the more foreign it all felt. None of this felt right.

That was when, after that fight, Jill searched through every room to be positive that all of the doors she could unlock were.

Leading her back to the east wing.

Walking down the narrow halls, each door that could be opened was and its room searched.

One after the other after the other.

Until she entered one room that was completely empty except for a door to the right. This tiny room, so insignificant in decor, felt funny. A small — near perfectly squared — room, nothing special to be seen. An odd feeling worming it’s way in her chest.

Slowly walking over to the only other door, no traps popped out. No poisoned darts, no spears from the floors, the air fresh and lacking suffocating gas.

Reaching the door, it was unlocked. Opening with ease and closing shut behind her.

A heavy sigh of relief from Jill’s lips, her shoulders relaxed while looking around this new room.

A living room like setting. A coffee table with a tea pot, a neat tablecloth sitting atop the varnished wood. A tempting looking couch, ready to be sat on, for another day. The elegant fireplace against the wall, near the door, with trinkets and candelabras. What next caught her eye, a shotgun.

No protective glass, within her reach, in a display but not welded down.

Tucking her handgun in her holster, Jill picked the shotgun off of the rack. A loud and distinct click rang from the hooks, rising back up. A trap.

Jill spun around, aiming the barrel behind her for whatever would come out of somewhere. Sweeping around the room, nothing — visually — changed behind her.

Skeptical, Jill toed her way to stand against the wall. Not letting a second be given to whatever undead monster would come at her.

It would seem to Jill, nothing would harm her in this room.

Remaining stiff, at the ready, Jill exited the room with her newly acquired shotgun. It would have come in handy for a few monsters she had come across while exploring but there was much to be seen…

Jill shut the door behind her, reentering the square empty room, and walked to the door now on her left.

An audible click from behind Jill caught her attention, then it came in front of her. Sudden and barely spike of unease washed over her. A grinding reverberated in the empty room. Scanning her surroundings — looking at the floor, the walls, the doors — a tickling on the top of her head made her scratch her scalp.

The feathery tickling now spreading onto her fingers and the back of her hand, Jill looked up.

To her horror, Jill hadn’t realized that the grinding was coming from above her head. To be exact, it was the sound of the ceiling crawling down the walls, shrinking the room before her very eyes. Inching its way downwards while Jill watched in shock.

Sprinting to the door to the hallway, her exit, Jill tried to open it to no avail. It had been locked. There was no telling that it was from her side, it may perhaps be on the opposite end of the knob.

Jill, in her panic, crashed her shoulder onto the door — attempting to break it open — yet no give was to be had.

Next she resorted to yelling, screaming for Barry or Wesker to come and unlock the door. If they were there, she needed them to get this open, now.

Pounding her fist on the door, she could swear she heard foot steps from behind the door. Yelling out both of her colleagues names, Jill jiggled the knob of the door to will it open. Ready to bring out her handgun, a voice rang above the grinding from above.

“Jill?” It was Wesker, her captain here to help her.

“Wesker! Open the door, it’s locked on my end.” Jill shouted. Her heart beating out of her throat, she had taken a look above her and saw the ceiling reaching the top of the door frame. She would have been seconds from pulling out her handgun to fire everything at the locked handle, with Wesker there, she should be fine.

The door handle did not move or hear any commotion on the other side of the door.

“Jill, you need to get out of that room.” Wesker said, much too calm for her liking. The unaffected captain was not what she needed right then. She was close to being crushed.

“I’m trying, sir, but the door won’t budge.” Jill shouted back in response. She would apologize later when she got out.

As she said it, she thought if the door she had come from had been locked. Sprinting to the other door, Jill had been able to twist the knob. It hadn’t been locked. Yet, why wasn’t it opening.

Her eyes cast up and saw that the door was trapped, now jammed, due to the ceiling going over the door itself. The door having only the ability to open inward, not outward to the other room, it was as good as locked.

Back at the other door, the same problem was done to it.

Her eyes shot over to the hinges of the door and the frame. Whipping out her handgun, Jill fired four shots, two at each of the hinges that kept the door bolted. That being her best bet as to not shoot her captain, but to also make the door damaged.

Using a tackling sprint, Jill tried to launch herself at the door. Hoping that it would break the wood outwards towards Wesker. The wood had been splintered by the hinges, Jill begged that the mechanism keeping the door shut was weaker than her will to survive.

“What was that? Are you in trouble in there, Jill?” Wesker asked, why would he ask that.

“There’s no way out, sir. I need to break the door down.” Jill shouted back at her captain. The fact that he wasn’t helping didn’t cross her mind, he was staying close by, he
must
be concerned for his officer.

With the ceiling closing in, sinking closer to her height, Jill needed to brute force her way out of there.

Hurrying to the other side of the wall, Jill ran full force at the door. Her shoulder cried out in pain, a bruise could be felt being made as she ran back to the other side to do it again. Running into the door with the same shoulder, Jill heard the splintering and the door weaken under her arm.

Running back, Jill did this two more times. Each time it hurt more than the last, the sinking ceiling above her didn’t slow her eagerness.

While sprinting for another time, the roof of the room touched and pushed Jill’s head down. It wasn’t hard, but strong enough for the unrelenting force to make her loose her step. Tripping over herself in surprise and landing on her face, hard.

Blood gushed out of her nose, dripping down into her scowling mouth. Her tooth cut into her lip, a throb coming from the injury.

“Wesker! The ceiling is closing in, we need to break this door down, fast.” Jill shouted, pushing herself up to bend over. Shuffling to the door to punch at the cracks in the door.

“Step back away from the door. I’m going to shoot at it to make it easier to break for you.” Wesker replied back, he didn’t sound concerned.

Jill got out of the range of the door, the bullets from her captains gun firing six rounds into the wooden door. Holes could be seen, the light from the hallway leaking through. Thankfully she would be out of this soon.

“Ok! I got this.” Jill shouted, standing hunched over at the door. Punching her fist at the wood, it was breaking under her knuckles. Creating splinters in the wood to spread out and connect with others, it was working.

Jill cursed the owner of this mansion, not only were they rich enough to afford traps all over the grounds, they installed thick real wood for each frame of the estate.

The real wood made it more difficult, regardless of the progression of tearing the door apart.

Again and again, the wood was splintering. Her body being forced to sink lower to match the quickening ceilings descent.

Jill had been forced to be on her knees, the ceiling was close but the door was destroyed.

Watching as the holes in the door disappeared behind the trap ceiling. Next were the groans from Wesker, grunting and the sound of heavy breaking of wood. Metal grinding rung in her ears, drowning out the fact that Wesker was finishing the rest of the doors destruction.

Jill was on her chest, the ceiling was right there.

Wesker had ripped part of the door apart, Jill seeing a chunk of it fall to the ground behind his feet. There was a window for her to crawl out of.

Crawling her way closer to her freedom, Jill reached her hand out to be grabbed.

“Wesker!” Jill screamed, the cold press to the back of her skull was unmistakable.

A pair of hands snatched at Jill’s extended one, beginning to pull her out.

Jill’s head had been forced to shifted to the side as no more room was given in the position of watching her rescue come to fruition.

Though as Wesker was pulling Jill out, the ceiling touched her hair first, then her ear. It’s here.

Her flailing limbs meant nothing as the pressure stumped the captains attempt to fully get her out. Pulling her but the other forcing her still.

Jill blindly reach her hand above her, trying to help crawl the rest of the way out while being pulled.

The strong grip of her captain and the strength of this death trap, an unstoppable force versus an immovable one.

The ceiling was pressing on the side of her head. Pressing hard. Discomfort. Pressing harder. Becoming uncomfortable. Pressing harder. Turning painful. Pressing harder. Being too much. Pressing harder. Unforgiving pain in the side of her head. Her skull pounding in pain, it was too much now.

On either side of her head, neither was letting up, but her bones were.

Millisecond after millisecond, the feeling of her shoulder dislocating from her captains strong hold sung at the same as her agonizing screams.

She could feel it. For a moment, Jill could feel her skull bending, giving resistance. Trying to compensate for a moments thought, before it snapped.

Remaining conscious, Jill’s skull, in a long line, broke open. From her forehead, through her scalp, down near the base of her spine, it broke open.

Jill’s screams were drastically reduced, her body starting to go into shock from all the sensations. Instead, Jill was letting out jumbled cries.

Her head giving in, letting itself be flattened, Jill felt it all for a moment. The pressing went on to go onto her spine. That time, there wasn’t as much mercy. Her chest cavity caving in, the sides of her ribs breaking on her sides. Her insides being poked and prodded by loose bone fragments, spilling out.

Jill couldn’t feel anything after that. She couldn’t hear a thing, it being continually destroyed.

Her eyes remaining open, the ceiling didn’t stop for a beat. As if she wasn’t even there or in it’s path. All the way until she eventually died from the trauma to her brain. If not from the immediate break of her skull, then from the shards lodging themself deeper inside the tissue while being squashed as a fly.

On the other side of the door, Wesker had been pulling hard on Jill’s hand.

When the contact first went onto her head, her hands shook and clawed at thin air. Wesker had been able to pull out Jill’s arm up to her bicep. Fingers from Jill’s other hand peeked just outside of the room she had been stuck inside.

Wesker had heard it next, the wet snap of a branch. Her hands shook under his own. Flexing their muscles while the deep ‘
crunch
’ from the door repeated another time.

Halting his rescue attempt, Wesker saw the deep color of blood spread out from beside her exposed fingers.

Gargling sounds, gasps, before a deep nauseating crack rung out. Watching the rest of the ceiling sink lower. Wesker watched in interest while it completed it’s trick. Pressing flush to the floor, loud popping and wet squashing while red ooze seeped out. Hair floating amongst the growing puddle.

Her arm on Wesker’s hand had been cut off. Now holding onto Jill’s arm, cut off above her elbow.

Stumbling backwards now with the lack of support for that stance, Wesker inspected Jill’s arm. Interested and disappointed.

Wesker had dismissed Barry from these corners of the mansion, telling him to keep an eye on their friend. Tossing her arm to the puddle of brain matter swimming out, Wesker turned and left down the hallway.

Wesker had believed that Jill would have been able to make it out of that one. To his disappointment, she had failed. Thankfully, Wesker would only need to worry about escaping with one extra body instead of two.

All he had to do was dispose of Barry then be able to take Chris for his own experimentation.

The room remained forever closed, the remains of Jill Valentine would remain with a few follicles of hair, brain matter, sliced off fingers, and half of her arm. All of the proof and evidence she had collected were with her.

Labeled as MIA, would soon be labeled KIA in a matter of months, no one bothered to retrieve her remains from the cursed grounds.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Raccoon City. The next chapter for Leon Kennedy that would unknowingly be his last.

It hadn’t meant to be this way, everything had been going well up to a certain point that he couldn’t quite name or point with his finger.

His girlfriend and him got into a fight. Arguing at one another, near shouting at each other, not the proudest moment for either person.

What had been meant to be was Leon would go to his new job in Raccoon City Police Department and begin the next journey. The next chapter of his life, a fresh start.

That didn’t go according to plan.

Instead here, airing out all their problems in the relationship, their relation had officially ended.

But what was different here was that they didn’t decide to split paths that night. No, it would be the next one.

They wouldn’t spend the night in the same bed, sleeping on the uncomfortable couch, but it was pushed back. She had nowhere else to go at that moment. To uplift everything they built together, to dismantle it. That would take more time that what it was, nearing midnight.

What did happen, to their demise, was that they would discuss it the following night. Choosing to not fight further. She had nowhere else to sleep, he had his first day in the morning. Out of convenience, that only leads to sorrow, they agreed to let it sit.

Leon Kennedy didn’t sleep soundly but far better than if she left. There was no point in going out to the local bar or the store to purchase drinks, the night wasn’t that ruined.

In it’s place, Leon found he passed out on the couch no more than five minutes from when his head hit the pillow. He wouldn’t be going anywhere that night.

Leon would show up to his job, on time.

The living space didn’t feel welcoming anymore. They should have broken up the night before, yet there she was, humoring her now ex-boyfriend as he left for his first day.

Before leaving, his ex-girlfriend explained that when he would get back, all of her things will be gone. That if he found anything she missed, to throw it out.

Leon didn’t like that he would be leaving, but he didn’t want to force her to stay with him. It was a mess, their ‘talk’ last night. Best not dwell on it, lest it ruin the rest of his day shift.

An easy drive, some traffic here and there, though he made it to work on the minute.

The clouds above were darkened, rain would be coming later that day if he had to guess.

Leon had visited this part of Raccoon City before accepting the position, it all looked drastically different. Not only that, Leon noticed the constant sound of an ambulance blaring it’s horn.

Disregarding the situation, Leon walked in on his first day…a mess.

The station was all over the place. There were people shouting at one another while police officers tried to calm the crowd near the entrance. What looked like families were grouped near the door he just entered through, shouting about how they want to go bring the rest of their families there.

Apparently, Leon caught on, there was an outbreak of some sort. ‘Hush hush’ as the officers referred to it when questioned.

Leon was informed to calm the civilians before moving onto his standard work. Everyone leaving the rookie to do their job.

The residents were understanding yet afraid. Asking when it will be safe to leave or asking if their family member is feeling better.

Some of them had been infected, as he heard with whispers to his ear, and quarantined from everyone else. In holding cells below the station, no one was allowed to go down there.

Explaining for some time that the matter was under control, Leon managed to escape the bombarding questions after ten minutes of listening to all their complaints.

The officers that weren’t helping still had their fun in watching him struggle with keeping them all calm. It would seem that it wasn’t that serious if they were messing around.

Leon expected to be hazed or something for his first day. Gladly, that did not happen either.

Everything was really a mess. Not only did none of the officers know what was happening with this sudden infection spreading around the city, they became violent. That was the reason that each of them were put down into the cells.

Leon’s superior told him that he needed to make sure that everyone stayed where they were. That the outside people were allowed in, the one thing Leon needed to be sure of was if they are bleeding. Or worse, aggressive.

There were locks on his desk, needing him to decode it before being able to begin work. They had some semblance of ‘humor’ no matter how concerning the outbreak sounded. Easy enough solve getting the locks undone after chatting with his coworkers.

Getting to know them, crumbs of their personality being put in the light, it wasn’t all too bad. Letting Leon forget little by little that his ex-girlfriend was cleaning out the apartment.

Telling the civilians that nothing was to worry about, repeating what was already repeated at him, it was to be told over and over that nothing was to be stressed over.

As such, it made it complicated.

Leon wished to take it with a grain of salt, then he witnessed a civilian attack in real time.

What happened had been that one of the officers wasn’t respecting the man’s wishes to get out. That they would be going to the hospital for help instead of ‘disgusting pigs like you’.

One thing lead to another, Leon saw it.

If he would be honest with himself, Leon saw that the officer was egging the man on. Telling him that the hospital was overwhelmed and needed the help of the precinct. Only to follow it up with him ordering the man, ever politely, to ‘sit down and shut it’.

Of course, stress was high, then again.

It was in a flash, the officer’s hand grabbed the man’s shoulder or the man lunged at the officer. What came first…

All Leon could register was that the officer begun to scream and hit the man repeatedly in the face. There was red dripping off of the officer’s skin.

Leon, with other officers, sprinted over and forcibly removed the civilian from the officer. The man had really sunk his teeth into him, literally. Blood was covering his mouth while he yelled obscenities at the officer.

That was awarded a swift punch to the man’s gut. A ringing of gasps from behind Leon made him look over while holding one of the man’s arms. The civilian man trying to reach out to the officer, most definitely threateningly.

There were people watching and covering their mouths with their hands. Creating crowds, awestruck, wide eyed. They were watching it all go down.

Leon didn’t think that what the officer did was right, why would he randomly irritate him.

The officers, including Leon, holding the man back were ordered to bring him down to the holding cells. From what he heard, this was what they spoke of. This, the violence, was a symptom of the infection, strangely enough.

They were all ordered to do their job, and do it they did.

When the man came back to himself, apologizing for what he had done, there was no turning back from what he did. They would take him to the cells and make him sleep it off.

Leon asked the man why he did it. What made him want to attack the officer. The answers wasn’t what Leon expected.

“I’m so hungry.” He man said.

Sure, Leon thought, everyone is different when they’re hungry. That hungry?

Leon tried to pry the man for more answers, he was an officer of the law after all. Instead, the other officers chimed in with snide comments.

“Quit it, rookie. This man is fucking insane, that’s all we need to know.”

Followed by the man being thrown into one of the empty cells. Doors sliding shut, the locks clicking and the man rushing to the bars. Reaching his arm out towards the retreating officers, now done their job. Leon stayed, staring at the man up and down.

“I’m being serious.” Leon started. “Tell me, why did you do that. Why did you bite him?”

“I just told you!” The civilian shouted. His irritation warped, turning the man’s expression into a wince. His back curling over while clutching his head. “Fuck! My head is killing me and now I’m being detained. My day can’t get any fucking worse, can it…”

After the man left the bars of his cell to sit down, that was Leon’s cue to leave. He may not be a medical genius, but if he could help the citizens of the city, he would do everything he could.

There came shouting down the hall, deeper down the holding cells.

Leon took an interest at hearing someone mumbling down the hall. What harm could it do to go listen to someone else, they may know more than Leon himself. Considering they were conscious, maybe Leon could get more details to go off of.

The person in the cell was someone who he didn’t recognize. He wore glasses and smoked a cigarette. How he was able to keep it from getting confiscated, Leon didn’t know.

It came to be known that the man in the cell was Ben Bertolucci, someone who Leon did not know. The man tried to convince Leon that he needed to be let out, that he needed to get out of there.

Upon further questioning, Ben started to close back up. Saying that Leon’s superior, Chief Irons, was corrupt. Saying defamatory statements of him to an officer’s face.

Leon suspected that Chief Irons had his reasons for detaining him. Ben was anxious, looking down the hall that Leon had come down, taking long drags of his cigarette. Leon was no detective, but he could smell something fishy going on.

Ben left one parting phrase to the officer, one that would lead down a steep road.

“Don’t believe me? Why don’t you go check his office yourself… Hell, I would kill to get that sort of scoop… I’ll tell you what. You search his office, bring back anything you can get on this experimentation bullshit floating around, and I’ll tell you what’s
really
going on here in this city. With Umbrella.” Ben finished, backing away from the bars.

Leon tried to press for more info but it was a dead end, Ben would not talk anymore. Not being able to tell if he was being used or not, it sounded intriguing, enough to look into it.

For a moment, Leon couldn’t think of himself of breaking into his superiors office. That is unprofessional and illegal from the way it sounded. If he would be used, he might as well find out what Ben was referring to.

What kind of experimentation was he speaking of.

As for Umbrella Corporation, Raccoon City houses them. Hardly knowing much detail other than what the public knows, what did Ben know.

Eating away at his sanity, Leon decided to take the bait.

Breaking into Chief Irons office was easier than he thought. The man had left not long ago, no one was around to even see Leon sneak his way into his unlocked office.

All around the room were all sorts of notes. Though he wished he was chasing after wind, Leon had been able to find something.

There were papers alright. They were nothing. Statistics about the arrests made in the last quarter. The number of heists made to search for drug traffickers. Nothing was coming up odd. All of the papers were usual documents that one would find in the office of their superior.

Then came the cabinet. One of the filing cabinet drawers had documents about an orphanage around the corner from the police station. Names of children, ages, family members, dates. Hair color, blood type, time of birth. One document with a full list of this information would be peculiar, finding five stacked behind it wasn’t. It was bad.

Reading the documents, there were a lot of children in this orphanage. Leon had never been inside one that could house
this
many kids. This was ridiculous the amount of children that filtered in and out of there, and that frequently. That, or the success rate for these adoptions were phenomenal.

This had nothing to do with experimentations…right?

Tucking the documents away where he had found them, Leon decided then that this may be bigger than he thought.

Sneaking out of the office, Leon returned to his desk. Sitting in his chair while everyone ran around him, not hearing the commotion around him.

When he had been snapped out of his mind, the disruptions around the room had been that more officers had been attacked. Forced to be quarantined or sent home due to lack of space. The officers were dwindling by the hour.

That morning there had been about twenty officers that were present in the main room of the entryway. Now, the afternoon shifting into the evening, there were seven left, including Leon. At their own desks, two other officers were sitting down. Their heads low, rubbing their temples from the headache of a day it has been.

The problems really started to hit hard when they would get the phone calls. People asking for the police to be sent to their homes because someone was trying to break in. Another about being followed home by someone with blood on their hands. A third about witnessing someone get shoved to the ground, crawling on top of their victim and…

Calls kept coming in, the station had fewer and fewer officers to send out on patrol or calls. It got to the point where they begun telling each caller to come to the police station themselves. That they are able to help, so long as they come to them first.

With the lack of surveillance, there were some civilians that ended up leaving even though it was safer to stay. Departing without a word, possibly to go retrieve their families in order for all to be together. Leon saw some leave themselves, alone, he didn’t stop any of them. They weren’t under arrest, they were free to leave.

The damage to the station had been done, it was only a matter of time.

Leon did his own small investigation around the station. Asking around to coworkers if this had all been recent or if it’s been days. Different accounts, different stories.

More people kept leaving under their noses. Dropping out and leaving without a sound. Leon was there to help people, yet they were all leaving. He couldn’t do this by himself, he realized.

As Leon walked over to one of the few groups of people still in the main room, seeing a mother hug her child. Leon hadn’t been lucky enough to get that. He could change this.

He knew of one person that had the scoop on what’s going on.

Ben may even have a lead if Leon were to give him information on what he found, per his earlier tip off.

Going down to the parking lot to get to the holding cells, behind him the way he came, Leon could hear dogs barking madly. He hadn’t yet visited the kennel or who was it that was there taking care of the canines.

Leon had heard once that dogs were smarter than we think. Being able to tell when a storm was coming or smelling sicknesses. These dogs, they sounded angry. In pain.

He had been close to going in there to find out what whoever in there was doing, but he had a tight schedule. Leon needed to be inconspicuous and to not draw attention to what he was doing. He could barely believe that he was entertaining the words of an arrestee, but Leon too had seen an officer provoke a citizen.

That couldn’t be the case, for Ben… If he had information on the city’s pharmaceutical, that couldn’t look good if the police were hiding things in the manner of silencing him by manners of arrest.

Leon was doing this for justice and to save the city. He needed to do this for them.

Walking past the guard that held his nodding off head, combing his fingers through his hair, puffing out a heavy sigh, Leon could have easily been a ghost. They would all be working overtime, some already doing so it would seem. The officer behind the desk didn’t acknowledge his appearance or exit into the cells.

The hallway of cells were shockingly quiet. Leon’s boots stepping on the concrete floor, the only noise other than his own breathing.

Taking a peek into one cell, walking up to the bars, moving his face closer to them, Leon could see that the individual was resting on the bed. Their back facing Leon and unmoving. The lights were on overhead, not in the cell.

Splatters of red on the floor near the person’s bed was seen. Spat out or coughed, there was a concerning amount.

“Hello?” Leon asked, a groan was all he got in return. “Do you need help in there? If you’re bleeding I can get you some first aid.”

Giving the offer, the person didn’t even budge when he offered to open the cell door.

Leon’s thoughts swam with questions. Should he go inside, check on him. The person was infected, they had to be, how contagious is this thing.

On more questioning, Leon checked the cell opposite of the one he was looking inside of. Placing his hands on the bars and leaning forward. The same problem, a small bit of sprayed blood painted the floor. This time, the man was on his back, his face towards Leon.

What he could see, the man’s face was pale with a hint of blood dried on the corner of his lips. His nose was wet from snot, his eyes were red even being closed shut.

Leon tried to ask for the attention of the man. Giving the same offer to give help if needed, Leon really would do it. He wasn’t the best, he would try.

The man didn’t budge either, resting with a pained expression on his face.

“What an awesome first day, right.” Leon departed from the bars.

A cough vibrated down the halls to Leon.

Leon turned his head to see where it had come from and followed after it.

Happening to arrive at that cell, the cell of the man who bit at one of the officers before Leon’s eyes, he was bent over. The man was coughing up a storm, dry heaving the air that he breathed in. Phlegm spat out with trickles of blood on the floor. Wiping his mouth clean with his palm, he looked awful as he looked up to meet Leon’s concerned stare.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Leon asked, ready to jump inside the cell to get him help.

“Do I fucking look alright to you?” The man glared at him, his eyes red and puffy.

Leon would say he was surprised but it washed away. He knew who he was, he had helped lock the man up after all.

Before asking again, the man inside the cell went into another fit of coughs. This time more intense. Holding his throat, his tongue hanging out as he nearly coughed his lungs out. It sounded incredibly uncomfortable, Leon’s own throat itching just listening to it.

The poor light that shone in the cell didn’t hide red dripping off his lips.

Leon watched, it looked the same as the other detained civilians. The spray of blood, his face looking ready to drop dead at any given moment, he needed assistance.

“Look, I get that you’re sick, but you’re not dying on my watch.” Leon told the man.

The man held up a middle finger, his eyes bulging while he gave a deathly scowl. Frightening if it weren’t for that sound, wet hacking. Following after it, a gasp of air came from the man like he surfaced water.

“Why don’t you start by telling me, what the fuck is going on around here. First, you morons tell us that we need to stop worrying about this…shit! To stop worrying about this shit. That we need to ‘stay calm’, it will be fine.” The man mocked, yelling at Leon. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but none of this is fucking fine!”

The man let out one, then two hard coughs. Inhaling slowly for more air, it sounded to be a struggle to keep breathing.

“I’m…sure we had good reason for saying that.” Leon thought how now it was useless to tell people to come to the station, believing that that’s what the man meant. “You’re fine, you’re safe here. We have first aid supplies for all of you-”

“Shut your mouth, kid. You think, all of that junk, is going to go to us down here? Yeah, I don’t think so. You’re all the same,
all of you
. Why don’t you unlock these cells if you think we deserve ‘help’, I know how to walk myself back up those stairs… I shouldn’t be down here! What did I do other than be sick.”

Leon took a deep breath, ready to talk to the agitated citizen.

“Sir, you know why I can’t let you out. You attacked an officer before, you aren’t…yourself right now. We need to keep an eye on everyone’s safety. For now, no one will be able to touch you or for this cold, or whatever, to spread to more people.”

“Or be able to be helped at that.” The man slumped over, exhausted. His hands running over his face, rubbing over his eyes. “Get out of here already, you all know something. Whether you admit it to me or not… It’s no more safer in here than it is out there now.”

There were more people who had been arrested after this man due to their violence. It was true that they were all locked up, all in the same building. Some were upstairs due to the dwindling room. No matter, officers were still on duty. One even keeping watch of the holding cells, for what reason would this man say such a thing.

“Why would you say that?” Leon asked, his interest brought back. Perhaps the man may know more than he lead on, knew more than what Leon had been able to connect together.

Instead, the man scoffed humorlessly. Shaking his head in his hands, the man continued.

“You’re the one who works here. You must know something about this outbreak… Whatever. We know that it’s a matter of time before you all get the hell out of Dodge. Leave the rest of us to…”

The man’s voice quivered, sniffles came after. He clearly reached the end of his anger, now beginning to break down at the reality of the situation.

A moment it was quiet, except for the sound of droplets landing on the cold floor of his cell.

“You know, I don’t have a family. So at least…” The man shuddered an inhale. “At least no one is going to be looking for me while I’m here.”

Leon knew a bit of what he was feeling from those words. He would officially lose his girlfriend once he would get home, the cherry on top for this already long first day. After that, she and no one else will be concerned if Leon would up be gone for a long time. Wondering if he would be late or not to getting home.

Feeling a hint of pity, Leon couldn’t let the man be alone. The stress that the city had been going through and the madness spreading faster than the infection, he came here to do his job. He wanted to save people.

“I won’t leave any of you behind.” Leon took a breath, thinking that there must be medicine down here somewhere. “We have medical supplies down here, I’ll come back in a bit to help you get better.”

The man dropped his hands that covered his face, staring up at Leon with wet eyes. The next words out of the man’s mouth were desperate, a broken man’s pleas.

“I’m just…so fucking hungry, man… I barely ate this morning. I pretty much stayed because you guys were offering us some if we didn’t leave.” Leon could hear the audible grumble that came from within the cell, he wasn’t lying. The man clutched his stomach while groaning at the discomfort. “Anything, I’ll take anything. Screw the meds, just get me something to eat.”

Leon’s shoulders relaxed, he didn’t know for certain if there was food down here, but he would check. First, he needed to speak with Ben.

Approaching the lone cell at the end of the hall, Ben looked to have started writing on a piece of paper. Once he saw Leon, Ben tucked the paper deep in the back pocket of his jeans. Hiding it from Leon’s sights, casually doing so as to not draw questions to it.

Though Leon wanted to ask what he was up to in there, he kept his attention in check.

“Alright… I checked his office like you said.” Leon spoke softly, as to not be potentially heard.

“So?” Ben went over to the bars, grabbed them and looking down the hallway. The frames of his glasses reflected the light back into Leon’s eyes. Catching him off guard when Ben’s face was inches away from the bars. “What did you find out?”

Leon scanned back down the hall, making sure the coast was clear. Going back in, getting his face closer to the bars, Leon explained what he found. Holding great skepticism while explaining what he found, the orphanage, Leon tried to hold onto the possibility that it was a misunderstanding.

Explaining how some of the papers were due to donations made in the RPD station’s name, that was the most damning of them.

Ben hadn’t been swayed but simply shook his head while listening. After waiting for Leon to finish, Ben looked worried as the building was completely quiet now.

“Ok… Ok look. I have my own information that I got. And I need to get out of here so I can have this handed off, fast. There isn’t much time, I need to get out of here.”

“Wait a minute, I never promised to let you out.” Leon whispered back at him, it wasn’t part of the promise at all. “You said that you would tell me what’s going on around here, now tell me.”

Letting Ben out of the cell would mean massive trouble and eyes darting onto Leon’s back. If he didn’t worry about being fired on his first day, it was to get involved in illegal experimentations. They could go after him, they need a plan.

Ben backed away from the bars, holding up his parking badge that hung around his neck.

“I’ll tell you once you let me out, this is serious. I’m not joking around. If what you just said is true, I need to get over there fast before they torch the place.” Ben said, scratching the stubble that was growing on his jaw.

Leon, in disbelief, couldn’t understand what he had said that triggered Ben to lock up. Quiet down. It may have been the same reason the man in the cell down the hall didn’t talk to him either, he was a cop.

“That wasn’t part of the deal. You said you had information. I can help you, but only if you let me. I won’t sit around and watch anymore, just tell me what you know. I can help.” Leon whispered back.

Ben turned back to face Leon, his face shifting. Uncertainty and hesitation warped on his face, Leon knew that Ben was close to telling him.

A cough that sounded similar to a gun shot bounced off the cell walls. Coming all the way down to where they both stood.

Leon’s head instinctively shot over to stare in its direction, waiting for what was to come next. Another few coughs, wet breathing, it was the man he had left by himself. He was still alive, of course, and Leon needed to make good of his next promise.

Forming a new one, getting Ben out of there, would need to wait.

Looking back, the sound seemed to have locked Ben back up again, refusing to go on with what was close to being said. Turning his back to Leon, his hands rubbing his scalp roughly, the note peeking out of his back pocket with whatever he had written on it.

“Like I said, get me out of here and I’ll give you the details… For now, I need to save my own skin here… Oh and by the way, I wouldn’t get near him down there if I were you.” Ben said, his tone going stern. He meant it.

Leon started to walk away from his cell, not thinking of what he said, before pausing. Facing back at Ben behind the bars, Leon asked.

“Why? I’m helping you too.” Leon finished.

“Listen to me here… I warned you.” Ben said, the look from the corner of his eye said it all. He was deathly serious. Scared even, he knew more that Leon needed to help everyone else.

Leon departed from Ben’s cell, walking down the halls and passing other ones. The corridor smelt bad, unpleasant. Taking note of the bodily odor of it, mixed in with sickness one breaths out.

Each of the cells were firmly shut, locked by the control panel, they weren’t violent anymore. None were running around or yelling profanities at the officers, they were actually docile. Perhaps a side effect, worn down and making the body rest. Leon thought of ways that it made sense, which it did.

Leon didn’t question the growingly disgusting stench or the lack of movement from the cells. He had been sick previously, everyone has. This infection, it must really knock you out after contracting it. The officer who had been bit must be feeling ill right about now, almost certainly so.

Passing by the cell of one of the remaining conscious people on the block, the man was leaning closer down to be lying on the bed.

What did pique his interest was the blood. In each of the cells, each and every one had blood — no matter how small — on their floors. It couldn’t be sanitary, for one. Secondly, why would none of the officers get first aid for any of them.

The man from the cell had said that they wouldn’t waste resources such as that on these types of people. Locked up and forced to wait it out. Disgusting. They weren’t supposed to penalize them for what they couldn’t control. Yet when you bite one of the officers, maybe the officers didn’t give a damn afterall.

Leon was newly out of the academy, he wasn’t used to this type of negligence. They were supposed to aid everyone, not be selective.

Innocence. Ignorance.

It wasn’t fair. None of that. They were supposed to care of the civilian’s lives no matter who they were or their background. One officer, long ago, saved Leon from a dark place. He wanted to be that for others. Give others that same chance.

That was what motivated Leon to search for first aid supplies and some food.

The guard at the desk of the holding cells wasn’t drifting off to sleep, he was out like a light. His radio playing on a random station, speaking about stories of someone attacking another person. First hand accounts.

Staring at the officer who had fallen asleep, Leon couldn’t believe that nearly everyone in this station was this negligent. During this time, they were all over the place. Anyone could have come in and…done something, Leon supposed.

Then again, once he did his promise, getting Ben out of here may be easier than he thought. They could bring the man in the cell with them both, Leon could get him proper care.

Fantasies.

Not bothering the wake the officer in charge of the holding cells, Leon searched the area for the medical supplies. The officer, sitting calmly on his chair, had a speckle of blood on his side. Nothing major, but Leon kept note of it.

Thinking he may have been attacked, Leon would deal with him once he handled the other promises that came up.

Managing to find some green herbs in the desk drawer, Leon saw an untouched sandwich as well sitting out of sight. Sitting on a paper plate, ready to be eaten, Leon picked it up.

Leon hadn’t thought about when he had last eaten, but this was meant for someone else.

As the officer who’s sandwich it potentially belonged to was asleep, Leon took it. He would replace it for him, explain that the people weren’t fed properly. He would deal with it when the time came.

Carrying the plate in hand and the green herbs snug in his pocket, Leon walked his way over to the cell of the hungry man.

One of his worst — soon to become his last — first days ever would come to a close. The clock on the wall indicated near perfect time, reading that Leon would be finished his first ever shift at nine that evening. He knew they would need him to work a double, potentially triple, shift but he didn’t entirely mind. He had no one to go home to, the people here, they were without anyone in their own lives.

Easily enrolling in the academy, Leon wondered how the rest of the night would go according to what had been taught. It was not how it was about to…

Arriving at the cell door, Leon used the control panel in the hall to unlock his cell. That of which, it was surprisingly quiet. Having been coughing almost the entire time Leon had been down here, he grew worried that something happened. The metal of the bared doors creaked and squeaked as it rolled open. Groans from behind Leon were low, ignoring them while stepping into the cell.

Keeping the cell door open as to not force the lock to click into place, he needed to be quick. The automatic shutting of the cell doors happened after just a few seconds.

There wasn’t much space to put the paper plate. Choosing to put it softly on the floor next to the head of the bed, away from the alarming large droplets of blood.

On second look, there was much more than he had seen from the hallway. The darkened floors with the poor lighting, the red puddles on the floor were denser than he thought.

Leon wondered why he hadn’t spoken earlier while he had been speaking to Ben.

Recalling what the man said, understanding came in. He couldn’t blame the man for doing that. As for attacking the officer, Leon didn’t not blame the man for snapping. Though the wrong coarse of action, it would have happened eventually.

This infection, spreading fast, they must all be terrified.

Leon hadn’t yet seen the infection in full effect, yet he thought he had.

Perhaps he should back up a bit more, give space and to be in reach of the cell door.

Standing at full height, Leon backed up two steps away from the bed. He had placed the food on the floor, there hadn’t been a drink he saw before. If the man needed water or something, Leon would go fetch it for them.

With precaution, to not scare the man, Leon spoke aloud for the man to wake up.

“Hey. I managed to find some food for you. I put it beside your head, you should eat it.” Leon said.

Taking another glance at the bloodied floor, Leon added more.

“I think you should be quick, whatever you got you’ll need to eat first before I give you some-” a squeaking of metal came from down the hall, and not from the cell door.

Leon’s head whirled around, staring at the hall from behind the bars. Being, not technically, behind the bars, it felt distorted. He couldn’t fully see who had opened what door. If he had to guess, it came from the door from beside the desk the officer had been resting at. The sound of shuffling footsteps scraping on the concrete were heard.

“Hello?” Leon called out loudly.

Groans of pain from the man behind him dragged Leon’s attention back towards him.

The man, laying on the bed, was slack jawed and his face relaxed. He didn’t show any sign of being awake, though his face was pale. Eyes sunken in and blood tainting his lips a sickly scarlet. The man was covered in sweat, the stench of body odor radiating off of him as Leon came to realize.

Leon took a step back to the man on the bed, pausing as he still heard the scuffling of boots on the floor. They were walking, fumbling their way forward, Leon grew tempted to return back into the hallway to check on what was wrong. To investigate if the man was alright or if it was a drunk who stumbled in… That would be impossible. Each person needed to be escorted into the holding cells unless they were an officer themselves.

Walking to the door of the cell, Leon grasped onto the bars of his exit to open it carefully. It also reset the mechanism that would make the door automatically shut.

Temporarily silence surrounded him, until it flattened out and heavy breathing from behind Leon took to his ears. Not being part of his imagination from the echoing sounds the hinges caused leaning against them, confirmed to be coming from out of sight.

Letting go of the door, leaving it to itself, Leon stared at the man of the cell. Shifting on the bed, he must be waking up. Nothing enough for him to be standing, but groggily tossing atop the uncomfortable surface of the steel mattress. His hands clenching and head moving back and forth.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Leon abandoned the thought of going towards the source of the footsteps, walking towards the man that had been awoken. “I got you some first aid here, but you can eat first. I found you something that should be…alright.”

The man groaned, the bulge of his throat bobbing up and down, swallowing saliva. His lips opened and shut, blood was covered on his teeth that glinted in the light. A concern that could be remedied once he got his strength back up.

Leon took note of it, pausing his approach and keeping a two feet distance from the man. Not wanting to get too close by making the civilian feel cramped in the small cell.

The shuffling steps in the hall remained present as the attempts to awaken the man went on. His hands were twitching and clenching, his legs nudging themselves alive. A low deep groan resounded off the walls around Leon, unsettling as he watched the man breath stronger by each second. A positive sign, had been Leon’s initial thought.

Perhaps, Leon thought, the worst of it had been over. The other cells remained still, this man must be recovering better than the rest. If this meant he was getting better, there may be a chance that Leon could convince his superiors that letting him out would be the best course of action. The officer that had come into the hallway would soon be suspicious of Leon’s interest in the detainees.

Ask questions that couldn’t be sufficiently answered.

“I’ll see what I can do about them letting you out, to get you all going to the hospital. The whole station right now are on their toes. I think they’ll want to clear up some of the space in this place.” Leon said.

It was already packed to the brim with civilians. Wandering around, waiting for time to pass by before they could leave and get back on with their lives.

With the whole building going wild, people walking in and out, people are injured. Some of these people need serious help. If not to help the outbreak, then to heal attacks like what happened earlier.

There was a sign of aggression in the recipients of the outbreak, witnessed before his very eyes.

The man on the cell, groaning with dry lungs, his skin was looking paler than before. It may have been because of the light or his eyes playing tricks, but he looked far from better. He looked worse.

The form before him, on the steel bed, had the rationality to stop fighting against the officers, at a point. Once he had been put in this cell, he hadn’t been able to get the chance to attack anyone else. If his body hasn’t yet fought off the infection, merely getting worse, would that mean that the same aggression would be worse too.

There were important pieces of information, significant points that were flagged, that were appearing in Leon’s head. Having trouble connecting the dots, Leon wasn’t picturing the scenario of what was to come.

Instead, Leon attempted to figure out what that all meant. From what Ben had warned him of, staying away from this man, and more.

What continued on behind all of the mental images beginning to form, the footsteps came to grow in volume. A crackling inhale from outside the cell and dragging steps on the flooring of the station.

Staring at the man locked in the cell, for a purpose, Leon started to wonder if he should really be this close.

Taking a half step back, Leon watched as the man looked to be waking up. His arms flopping around to get himself to sit upright. He didn’t look to need help, if a tad exhausted in his staggering to get up.

Leon wondered if he was being overly cautious or reasonably so. He knew something was wrong, that feeling in his gut telling him to get out of there. Or to even pull out his gun. Leon didn’t do either, instead standing still and deciding to keep to himself.

Not speaking to the man, not making any movement, not doing anything that would draw attention to himself.

When the man sat upright, his eyes cracked open, Leon’s brain blared in warnings. Warnings such as ‘Get out of there!’.

With the man sitting up on the bed, a long consistent drool of red slipped out past his lips, it was an unsettling image he watched. What had to be blood dripped all the way down to his leg, back hunched over met with cracking of bones emanating off of his man.

If it wasn’t for the bloodied drool, it would be the eyes that gave it away.

Those eyes, Leon couldn’t wrap his head around it. His heart was beating out of his chest, his brain commanding his to snap out of his fearful awe.

The man’s pupils were white, deathly white. In the light of the cell, it may have been that, but at the same time it couldn’t be. It wouldn’t explain how Leon could see that they were bloodshot. Angry red flashing around his eyelids like lightning bolts, bulging in the limited light to present them to the officer.

Leon wanted to speak, something inside of him was telling him to remain silent. Not to make a sound, to back away out of there. He stayed still like the walls he was trapped in.

Not once did the man say a word, let out a small peep, it was ominous how little the man expressed the pain he had to be going through. He had already mentioned how hungry he felt, he didn’t even acknowledge Leon’s presence.

“I, uh,” Leon spoke against his better judgment, breaking the safety of no one knowing of him being there. “I think that there’s a way that we can use one of the cars to get you to the hospital. The garage is right here. I can try to tell the officer at the front that it’s an emergency. I don’t think the ambulances will get here in time faster than I can get you there. I’ll drive you there myself.”

The man’s head slowly turned to face Leon, the cracking of bones along with a wet inhale.

“I’ll, try to get the paperwork for it. But in the meantime, I found some food for you. It’s right there. Eat it up and I’ll be back before you know it.” Leon said, backing away from the man, changing his mind on wanting to hand over the medicine. He would leave it by the bars on his way out. This screamed danger.

A cold dead stare, nothing behind his expression, they were empty. No man was left behind in that gaze. Gone, dead, it was an abandoned body. Whoever was looking back at him, whatever was left behind, was starting to move to stand.

Once Leon’s back hit the bars of the cell, he turned around to exit out into the hall.

He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, stayed silent. Return back to the other side of the bars to create that distance again, he hadn’t.

Holding onto the bars of the door, making the timer reset again, a heavy noise came from behind him. Whipping around to see, the man had fallen face first onto the floor. A moment after seeing him there, Leon realized that along with the thud on his collapse was the sharp crack of bones.

Leon turned away from his exit, holding onto them still, taking a moment to asses how anxious his gut felt. His foot slid towards the man, but he stopped from leaving from where he was.

“Shit, are you alright?” Leon asked, too on edge to move closer but wanting to know if he was ok.

The man pushed himself up off the floor. A drool of blood dripped off of his nose and fell to the floor. A big stain of blood had collected there merely from him falling face down. He must have been seriously injured.

“Oh my god, can you stand up?” Leon let go of the door unconsciously.

The sight of blood had reset Leon’s brain to want to lend a hand.

Upon seeing the man raise his head so that his face is visible, Leon’s own blood ran cold.

It looked as though he had been hit in the face by a mallet. A large mass of blood decorated the center of his face, his nose broken in totality. The bone being visible and blood continuously oozing with blood. His lips were cracked and bled the same, his teeth inside his mouth were chipped. Jagged and sharp as the white reflected the light back to Leon.

The man was completely unaffected, staring at Leon with intention. His hands came up, reaching out to the lone officer. His lips opened with a gurgle crackling up from his pale throat, he was coming towards him.

That was it.

Leon pulled out his gun, pointing it immediately at the man stepping closer.

“Alright, that’s enough. You, you need to back up, sir.” Leon ordered, disliking that he was threatening a civilian. Yet everything in his mind was screaming at him to pull the trigger. Something was wrong, he couldn’t figure out what it was. This was his first instinct after seeing what had just happened to this man.

The man’s nasal cavity had been crushed, bubbling red from between the cracked exposed bones of his face.

The man did not listen, instead, seemed to not hear Leon at all.

Refusing to pull back the safety on the firearm, Leon tried again to make the man back up.

“This is your last warning, sir. Back up with your back against the wall, that is an order.” Leon tried to remain calm, even though he was backing away from the other’s approach.

The door of the cell was closing, squeaking in the cell walls. Leon needed to get out of there if this man was refusing to listen. He wouldn’t fire at an unarmed man, he couldn’t.

“Ok, that’s enough. You stop right there or else you will be seriously hurt.” Leon hadn’t prepared to come face to face with a civilian who refused to cooperate. It was part of his class, why couldn’t he remember.

The door of the cell rattled, heavy breathing was coming from behind Leon.

Trusting that it had been the officer that was taking a nap at the desk, Leon relaxed ever so slightly. He must be doing his rounds of surveillance, seeing Leon inside an open cell.

“It’s alright, I can handle him. He hasn’t been feeling well, he isn’t in his right mind right now.” Leon spoke to the officer behind him.

Unbeknownst to Leon, the officer, that indeed was behind him, wasn’t himself either.

As the door clattered in the hinges they rested on, Leon called out again. His first day and they persisted to treat the rookie like this, Leon sighed heavily.

“I said I got this.” Leon got frustrated at the fact that they were ignoring of his words.

Raspy breathing got nearer to Leon’s ear, making the air in the cell musty. A coating of grime collecting on his skin just hearing it nearby.

Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, ready to tell the officer that he had the situation under control, all he got was an eyeful of what he initially thought to be a corpse.

Leon’s eyes widened, jaw going slack, what in Gods name was he looking at. It felt like a dream. Transported to a different reality.

Eyes taking in the entirety of the officer’s face. He wore a policeman’s cap but his face was distorted.

Leon thought that at first he had been asleep. How could he be seeing a corpse standing there was that same festering expression in those eyes.

Sunken in, darkened with the veins that rose off of his skin, he was pale as a sheet of paper. That same blank guise that lingered in those clouded pupils. Bottomless with no soul left behind, he looked the same as the man he was already in the cell with.

At the appearance of whoever this
had
been, Leon’s attention and concentration had been compromised.

His eyes remaining on the officer for a moment or two. Staring at the other with confusion, it didn’t feel like reality for the seconds he looked back at the officer.

A cold wet hand touched Leon’s hand, still holding his gun and pointing it to the man that had been locked up. Turning his head back to the man in front of him, the man was leaning forward with his mouth wide open.

A second too long to react, his mouth came down to bite down on the back of Leon’s hand. Teeth sinking into his flesh and tearing it away.

Letting out a scream, Leon ripped his hand away from the man, blood rushing down his wrist. Leon backed away from the man with his injured hand, forgetting about what was behind him.

Another pair of hands clasped onto Leon’s shoulders, a hot rank breath tickled the back of his neck. Another set of teeth grazed on his shoulder and bit down, hard.

Crying out, he needed to get the officer off of him.

Using his elbow, Leon threw it backwards to the officer out of reflex. A wet crunch had been met along with the hot trickling running down his back, soaking into his shirt. Leon stumbled away from both the infected men, moving away from the blocked exit.

Looking at his hand, it was bad. The skin that was left behind that hung on by a thread showed the tendons of the inside. Muscles reflexing and squirts of red shooting out, sliding between his knuckles.

As for the back of his neck, Leon was too discontent with the state of his hand to entertain the thought. With the two freshly bleeding mouths before him, he was in a bad state.

He might be able to use the green herb, but he needed to get out before cleaning himself. The cell was cramped now, he wouldn’t have time to do it then. Not only that, the door to the cell was beginning to close for the last time.

Bringing back up his gun, Leon pulled back the safety. Ready to fire at them, they both stood in front of the door out of the cell.

All that had to be done was to get around them and out into the hallway to lock the door. Whatever was happening, Leon was now at great risk of getting this infection.

The fact that both of them looked to be clinically in the exact same state, Leon couldn’t reason with them. Something was wrong, he couldn’t talk his way out of this.

He had told himself that he wouldn’t attack his own coworkers or innocent civilians, but this made all his promises fall flat. They were going to hurt him again when given the chance.

Neither of the infected had any interest in the other, not even staring at each other like the other existed there too. They were zombies, they had one thing on their mind.

The door was squeaking as it moved closer to the locking device.

The mechanics of the cell doors were run by the control panel near the end of the hallway. Unless the doors remain open, there is no way to get out.

All Leon had to do was rush to the door, get out into the hall and firmly shut the cell door in order for them to be locked in.

Now that their attention had been refocused back onto Leon, they began their approach once more.

Looking back and forth at them, they had similarities that were astounding. They both had deeply bruised sockets, their mouths hanging open ready to feed, the red veins that spread out and littered their skin. The infected police officer must have gotten it from one of the people in the other cells.

It was no matter of choice, Leon had to fire his gun.

Firing one bullet into the chest of the civilian, it knocked the man back for a moment before he bounced back.

Confused, Leon waited before firing again, this time into his shoulder.

Again, it didn’t appear to effect the man. A groan was perhaps a reaction from the injury, it too could have been that it would do it regardless.

The hands were reaching, four of them, warping his vision, they felt closer than his sight was leading him to believe. In panic, Leon fired two more shots into the chest of the man. When he came too close, Leon had tilted the gun upwards.

Pulling the trigger, a bullet tore through the face of the man.

That appeared to be enough, watching as the man fell backwards to collapse onto the floor. Gurgling came from his throat, Leon ignored it.

Leaping over the man, Leon lunged for the door.

Grasping the bars, he managed to hold onto it. But not pulling it open.

The officer had lunged after Leon the same, shoving them both to squish up against the bars. Forcing them to tumble, holding onto the bars for support that only went along with him wherever he went. The wheels of the door following after them both. The audible click of the lock’s latch rung in his skull.

Laying on the floor, the weight of the officer’s body on his back, Leon scrambled to try and rip the door back open.

It was locked.

No one was around behind the bars.

To add insult to injury, because of the officer’s heavy lunge, Leon’s hold on the handgun had faltered. Knocking it out of his grasp when it aggressively hit the metal of the bars. The gun now lay, clattering to the flooring, just outside of the bars of the cell they were all now locked in.

Elbowing the officer on top of him, attempting to jerk him off, it was no use.

The officer fumbled a bit, here and there, but climbed back onto Leon.

Hands clenched onto Leon’s muscles along his back, bruising in strength, and ripped apart his uniform and some skin. In the midst of the hands pulling apart his clothes, teeth bit into his shoulder.

Screaming in pain, Leon continued attempting at knocking the officer off.

However, as the officer was on top, he had the upper hand. Leaning back in to bite and tear off flesh as he wished.

Back arching in agony, trying to lessen the feelings that spiked through his skin, the insistence of the officer was incredible.

It felt like a childish fight, pushing and kicking, trying to create distance. It was like a game.

Punching the officer in the face when Leon managed to crawl to be on his back. The surprisingly cold floor of the cell sent a shock of needles up his spine when it connected with his exposed back.

Against the wall, backing away the farthest he could, he still wasn’t enough to stop the assault.

Blue uniformed, managed to fumble his way to straddling Leon’s stomach, the officer clawed his way up. Reaching higher and pulling himself up.

Using his hands, needing to shove away the face that was snapping his jaw at him, there was nowhere else to run to.

The officer wasn’t a light weight, heavy and keeping Leon from budging freely. Though unstable, the strength of his muscles hadn’t deteriorated because of this disease.

The whites of the officer’s teeth clashing together, body pushing against his shoves were the signs of the inevitable.

Resisting the power of the visually deceased officer, the pain from his injured hand ached greatly. Making it increasingly more and more difficult to keep the man away from attacking him further. Taking more energy to fight back, punching the officer’s face, wrestling his way out was no easy concept. His back, full of new gaping wounds, bleeding down the wall, Leon needed to use the green herb for himself. The cooling trail down his back made it more apparent just how much he had bled thus far.

There would be no use to administer the medicine to the civilian, he was already a lost cause. Having been killed by Leon.

Yet, no matter what Leon did, no matter what he thought would work, no matter if he had made it to that cell door in time, it would be inevitable. There would be no future for the rookie cop if he had arrived on time for his first day.

So when the last of his energy started to deplete. When the last of his hope of escape dwindled. When the last of Leon’s resistance started to wane, that was his last choice that he was given to make. For one milisecond, it had been all that was needed.

For one moment, in his mind, Leon knew there would be no point in trying to fight this monster off of him. He already begun to experience the feeling of exhaustion from the blood loss. His health was in a bad place, his vision pulsating in red around his vision.

In a beat, there was that feeling of crushing on his chest.

Eyes shooting open, staring down, there the officer was. Already pulling his head up with a chunk of Leon’s flesh with it. The elastic like skin of his chest kept together, until it ripped in half.

Blood spread out onto Leon’s — once — blue uniform.

“Fuck!” Leon cursed, his voice strained.

At the shock, the hands he held back using his own slipped due to the sweat on his own palms.

Like a magnet, the pair started to scratch at the same spot that the fresh teeth marks were.

Crying out at the sensation as dirty nails dug into to his ribs, wanting to crack them open, pull his insides out. In that, Leon saw it happen.

The monstrous strength and insistence of the officer made easy work on the dying rookie.

The suffering was too much. The sight was too much.

Leon’s brain was already going dizzy from the loss of blood. All of this was making the grey matter in his head make him start to lose consciousness.

With flailing arms, using his hands to push at the forehead of the officer, eating from the hole in his chest he had created no more than a minute ago, Leon felt nauseous.

A blink and the officer had shoved his hand into Leon’s chest up to the wrist. Another blink, part of his rib had been broken outwards to provide more access to his organs. His body convulsing, shivering, freezing. That had been the last that Leon felt. Thankfully the pain had stopped once his brain took over, making it all nonexistent.

Lazy blinks became a constant stare. Staring outside of the cell to the gun that he dropped. Way out of reach for him to ever be able to grab. Even though his eyes were open, staring back at the mocking sense of humor it felt to be, everything slowly slipped into a curtain of black before his eyes.

It took hours, perhaps on the same day, before Leon’s eyes moved. He didn’t consciously do this. They moved on their own.

What had it been that caught his attention.

What had it been that he had been doing before this.

What had it been that killed him.

What had it been that made him feel like a sack of meat.

Questions.

Questions.

Questions.

Questions.

The one answer that came — not from his imagination — had been footsteps.

They were light. They were sharp.

They were loud.

Click, click, click, click, click.

It went on.

The repetitiveness of them, it pounded in his head.

Did the sound seem familiar or completely foreign to his memory.

Leon wanted to get up, wanted to investigate.

He was feeling peckish.

Darkness surrounded him, he could barely see his feet, only seeing outlines. That would be worrisome to him, if he was looking at them.

Instead, his eyes played against his wishes.

Sitting upright, an incredibly odd feeling overtook him. Groaning at the discomfort that felt so alien to him. He hadn’t ever felt like this before.

Even his limbs worked against his wants. Where the energy came from to stand up, he had no idea.

Leon’s body turned towards the bars of the closed holding cell. Reaching his hand out, it was dark. He could see but he couldn’t. A film, it was so incredibly weird.

The cold metals of the bars touched past him or him to it. He could faintly see them but without certainty.

Shadows, structures, silhouettes, that was what he saw.

Curious.

How curious.

Childlike but not.

The sounds of each ‘
click
’ got closer. Was it toying with him, having a good laugh. He didn’t hear any laughter.

“What a mess.” A feminine voice. A woman’s.

In his field of vision, Leon could see a darkened silhouette come into his sight.

“Nothing dies down here.” Irritated, she sounded irritated.

Leon wondered why.

Reaching his hand out towards the mysterious shadow, trying to touch whoever she was, the only thing that he heard next was a click. Not the same as before, though this one was familiar in another way.

Triggering a memory in his decayed brain. It was a gun, the safety.

Why would-

Just like that, Leon’s head exploded at the first shot of Ada’s gun. Brain matter spraying all around from the ceiling to the floor below. What had been left of his head had been his jaw and everything underneath it.

It took little to dispose of the threat that was the undead, Leon.

His body slowly falling backwards to collapse onto the floor with a wet hit to the ground.

There were many things that Leon would never get to see — one of which — was the woman who would soon be making her way to the station in search of her brother.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Raccoon City that every resident knew about was that it was like any other. The crime rates were average for a size such as this. The population being borderline at capacity. Jobs opportunities that could change your life, that is, if you were to be employed by the Umbrella Corporation.

What they hadn’t been told was what
really
went on behind closed doors.

The realization that Umbrella Corp was an incredibly shady company, the more information got uncovered the more worried the residents got.

Not just any one person could look into the company without becoming a target.

That was what Chris, Barry and Jill were trying to do, for the city. Having information that they had already acquired, knowing different access routes for better details, they were best equipped to take down Umbrella.

The leads that went to dead ends. Real peoples names written on scraps of paper, yarn connecting every missing person’s name with Raccoon City. Mysteries remaining unsolved, able to be reviewed, in the apartment of one of the members, Jill Valentine.

On a large portion of Jill’s apartment, there were details and documents that she had been able to link to events that she had escaped months prior. Spencer Manor was long gone, all the proof and evidence being destroyed with that abomination of a facility. Having what she remembered from the lost sheets be written down on pieces of paper to stick it to their bulletin board.

She was close. Yet she couldn’t help but feel that she was far from any form of justice for what happened. What had been found in that mansion, atrocities to humanity.

Nightmares plagued Jill, relentlessly, coming to her in the form of false realities. Making her believe that she would become one of them, an undead walking monster.

Thankfully, she hadn’t sleepwalked to the extent that she would do any physical harm. The dreams served to be a form of mental abuse, thanks all to the trauma of that fateful night.

Her friends were all over. Chris left for Europe to find out more about Umbrella Corp and Barry stayed nearby Jill. Rebecca, they weren’t entirely sure what she decided to do. There were talks about where she would go, but they hadn’t heard back from her in a while. Hopefully that meant she was safe, but nobody knew for certain.

The best they could do was hope that she was safe and out of this horrid mess.

The three of them barely scratched the surface of their investigating.

There was evidence of malpractice, but they weren’t solid evidence that they could use. Many accounts of superiors putting other’s in harms way for the sake of ‘duty’. That was not entirely unheard of, therefore they needed more. No one came forward or approached them, likely due to the fact that they would die. Even under protection of the law, nowhere was safe for them; Umbrella had people and spies everywhere.

Digging deeper into the hole that they continued to metaphorically shovel through, eyes glued to Jill’s back ran chill up her spine. Never confirming the suspicion, though needing to keep note of it for the future.

That ended a couple of days prior to this night.

Jill’s apartment where she had woke up from yet another nightmare had been destroyed. A massive beast of a person, or a monster, crashed through her apartment. A fire burning the entire building to the roof.

Getting a good look of her surrounding through the holes in the walls, there were fires all over the place. It wasn’t solely happening to Jill.

It felt like a nightmare still, witnessing the black smoke rising up the sky as she watched the streets be illuminated. Civilians were scattered all around the roads, cars on fire after being crashed through brick buildings. Blood rolling down the pavement Jill ran down.

Time flew by as if she had blacked out. Jill hadn’t, it had been her training that had let her save herself. The trauma of the night made Jill forget how she had gotten down the road this far.

There were screams too far off to call out to, fire alarms drowning out the sound of Jill’s heavy breathing.

Climbing over cars, going past rubble from collapsing bricks of shops she used to shop in.

The mild earthquake like vibrations that rung up from her legs shook her, something or someone was chasing her.

A massive
thing
.

Whatever this was, it hardly had a face.

Firing bullets into him did little. Bleeding not close to a drop of blood. The plastic bag like fabric wrapped around it’s body showed it’s pale skin underneath the holes she made into it.

There was no way to take this thing down.

It went after no one but Jill. Nobody else drew it’s attention.

Not even when a man came and fired a rocket launcher at it’s body.

Fleeing with the mysterious man, the man being covered in military attire which ticked off warning signs. Jill had learned exactly who he worked for; Carlos worked for U.B.C.S. — also known as Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service.

As the name would suggest, they are owned by Umbrella Corporation. The same people that she was investigating and planning to take down.

Immediately, Jill kept him at a distance. Physically and of her own knowledge. She knew enough about who he worked for. He seemed foolish instantly at the tone he spoke to her in. Saying that they were here to help, to aid in evacuation for any and all survivors.

Jill didn’t fight back too harshly. She couldn’t tell him everything she knew of who he worked for. Jill couldn’t confirm if he could be entirely trusted.

He did seem genuine, however. A good heart, tied to the wrong cause.

Unknowingly or not, Jill couldn’t let them do whatever they pleased.

Umbrella is a cruel entity, they couldn’t care less for civilian lives. Jill did.

That was why Jill chose to temporarily aid them in their search for survivors and to acquire knowledge as for the reasons for this catastrophe to occur.

To say there were little survivors left would be an understatement. Almost no one remained alive no matter where she went. Inside buildings, shops, electricity stations that power the trains underground.

What was behind were those familiar nightmarish creatures that resembled the dreams that Jill tried to escape. They were back. The undead lunging towards Jill to attempt to take a bite out of her. This time, there were much different problems.

That being, that tall monster that chased her out of her own apartment building, hunting her down with persistence, he remained. As though she wore a magnet that attracted the monster to her whereabouts, Jill found herself dodging the attacks it tried to land.

It would leap, swing it’s arm, stomp at her leg. There was even a time when this nemesis would leap down from the roofs above her to try and slam onto her. Targeting her, chasing after Jill, it was ruthless.

By the time that Jill had achieved to get the trains back on power and all of the buildings confirmed to be empty, Jill had the hells of a time getting back to Carlos and his group.

Back into the metro, Jill didn’t forget how Nikolai had shot and murdered a victim of this mess. One of his own men. All due to the possibility of him being infected. He hadn’t given no more than a heartbeat to make that final decision.

Splatters of blood from the bullet piercing his skull, inches away from Jill’s. A shit show if any she has seen.

A shock to see him exterminate the officer without a care or hesitance. No second guessing, checking for his vitals. Nikolai shot and murdered that man right before Jill’s eyes.

No matter if they had orders, he showed no care. Almost as if the fewest amount of witnesses would be for the best. An easier cleanup.

A thought came to Jill, had Nikolai found any survivors but eliminated them before Jill could reach them.

Suspicions ran high.

Carlos worked hard to gain trust from Jill. Even after Jill left in the train only for it to derail thanks to the explosion that had been set off.

The distrust towards the U.B.C.S. officer known as Nikolai proved to be fruitful. He showed his side after locking the cart’s door to force Jill and Mikhail to be trapped with the big ugly creature that hunted after her.

Anger.

When all the flailing and tumbling inside the tunnels system slowed to a halt, Jill remained asleep.

Thankfully, Jill hadn’t died from the crash.

The type of death that would not be given away, not for Jill Valentine.

Not only was Jill the only survivor from the crash, she needed to escape the city before this monster caught up to her if it were still alive.

The overbearing presence of the massive creature that followed after her every footstep bore down on the mounting stress. The sewers were filled with disgusting lab experiments that were let out to roam freely down the pipes.

Just as her visit to her previous mission involving her late captain Wesker, there were documents littered around the sewers, and above ground.

Reaching the surface, fresh air that would not be contaminated by the musty gas from down below, gray clouds hovered above her head. Whirling of helicopters nearby carried in the wind, but not one had been seen in her sight. The Raccoon City that Jill knew was collapsing around her. The amount of hours that had passed would surely run out.

Danger lurked around every corner.

The morphed undead sprinting towards her and the reappearance of this massive creature.

This encounter, unfortunately, hadn’t gone according to plan.

After battling with the monster after crossing the bridge she ran across, she had been close to escaping unharmed.

Jill had gotten infected.

Not to mention, due to her injuries and the infection, Jill lost consciousness just as she called out to Carlos for help on her radio.

Time flew by and before she knew it, Jill regained consciousness. Her body feeling better than it had been when everything went black.

Moments before her eyes blinking open, she had no time to register the dream she just awoke from. Having experienced a nightmare that woke her from a deep slumber. There was not enough time for Jill to recall exactly what happened as the sound of a TV static rung in her sensitive ears.

The room in which she had regained consciousness in was filled with medical supplies. Littering the counters and Jill having been layed on a moderately comfortable bed. Beside the bed she woke up on, a mounted TV on the wall announced the total eradication of the city that would occur in mere hours. Warning all to escape while they still can.

At that moment, Jill left the room she rested in and found one of the other officers who worked for Nikolai. Tyrell had been left behind to watch over Jill while Carlos had left them both above ground.

With the exchange of words and less than ideal conversation, Jill learned that the city would blow up if the vaccine wasn’t retrieved. Learning that Carlos had used one of the cures on Jill, sacrificing everyone for her.

Carlos had left the both of them behind to go after Nikolai, to try and get another vaccine down underneath the hospital they were barricaded in.

Hearing that Carlos had saved her and was actively trying to save the city, the wreck that it was in, Jill’s trust in him grew exponentially. If there were suspicions, they were squashed after witnessing his actions time after time.

Neither Tyrell or Carlos held their allegiances to Nikolai or U.B.C.S. , they learned just as she had with her old task force to trust nothing about Umbrella.

Debating briefly amongst each other about their next plans to help Carlos, it was no question for Jill. Carlos did just as Jill would have done if given the choice.

They would both go after him. Lend any and all help in order to get the vaccine out of Raccoon City.

Their main passage would be to follow Carlos’ footsteps. Past sliding doors and down platforms that drew them deeper.

They were led down.

Deeper and deeper down into the pits of shame that Umbrella hid inside.

Underneath their very noses were the devices and the scientific knowledge that showed exactly how everything came about. If not by this infection that turned the dead, then it would be something else.

There were Hunters down here too, similar to the ones in Spencer Manor.

Jill had handled them before. Blasting them with as many bullets and as many grenades that would be needed to keep them down.

There were new creatures, Pale Heads. Confusing things, it took a beat longer than normal for Jill to figure out their weakness. Massive amounts of damage to their bodies. Primarily to their head and face.

The constant movement and the constant peaking over her shoulders for any of the straggling undead wanned on her mind. The sleep she had gotten had done it’s fill, the adrenaline was wearing down.

No matter how much she shuffled in her sprinting down the halls, Jill told herself she couldn’t stop. There was no time to rest against the walls or the floors, even as they called out to her. To fall down onto their unforgiving surfaces, her body asking for her to close her eyes.

The human body couldn’t run on such insufficient energy forever. It had been days by this point.

Not to count the months of sleep that had been stolen from her by the trauma of what occurred months prior. Spencer Manor. Wesker, her late captain. It hadn’t been a matter that she hadn’t gotten sleep in days, it was a matter of months. For weeks the amount of sleep she had been able to receive was enough for her research. It was enough to investigate whenever she found a new lead or left her apartment to find more.

It strained on her mentally how exhausted she truly felt. But she was strong, her body demanding rest would come second. Nothing would slow her down, she thought.

Brushing it off, it meant little if she slept. Enough time had been wasted on dead ends that started to lead closer to a final explosion of Raccoon City.

More floors were below the hospital. Underground and hidden from the prying eyes of journalists that would risk jail and potentially have their heads crushed to get a look at what she found.

As it was, Jill traveled further and further below. Shoving pieces of documents into her pocket for her later research. She would need these, she would need all of this.

While exploring, there were worse things down there than up above the grounds.

No one, the same as above their heads, not one of the scientists were alive. Murdered by their own test subjects or taken out by Umbrella. Orders.

It was a bloodbath. There were documents detailing exactly the horrors they inflicted to the human body. To other types of bodies and DNA. They were augmenting science. They were making a Virus. Strains and numbers linked to a Tyrant, what could this all lead to. Were these the same as the Tyrant from Spencer Manor. How deep did this mystery go.

From what she had found and kept in her back pocket, some workers of Umbrella were unwilling trapped inside the company. In fear of their family member’s deaths or to have their lives be ruined. Or exterminated in the worst case scenario.

A struggle to find a way to sympathize, though, Jill had been fooled once before as well. She had been fortunate enough to get out, yet with a price on her head.

The price being the Nemesis that hunted her all the way down into the laboratories.

Smashing through the walls and destroying their surrounding. The foundations of the underground colony shook. The ceiling started to crumble down each time Jill needed to dodge out of the pathway of this creature.

Tearing down walls, lunging towards her with no success.

Tyrell had not been able to make it. Sacrificing himself for Jill to get away.

Jill barely knew him, only truly knew his name in the last few hours. She would get out of here, if only to avenge all the innocent lives — victims — of this hellhole.

Blood shed came in the way of her bullets penetrating the heads of the undead that wandered the laboratory’s halls. An occasional injury remedied with First Aid Spray or rubbing some green herbs to her own wounds. Bandages keeping them sanitary and guns loaded to the nine.

When there would be too many hands reaching out towards her, Jill had only to dodge out of their path to make a narrow escape. They were slow, giving Jill perfect windows the fire rounds into them. Their brains splattering down to the concrete floors, tainting the dirtied white flooring with splashes of scarlet.

More or less, nothing was going wrong. In way of ammo and medical supplies, there hadn’t been much of a sign of Carlos as she ran through rooms.

The next time that Jill encountered the Nemesis, it looked much worse than before.

Jill had managed to take it down a notch — time after time — but it kept coming back for more. A cockroach that refused to give up.

What could make this
thing
stay down already. What would it take for it to die.

In eventuality, Jill would find out.

Going through vents, running down hallways, dodging the outstretched arms of the monster’s size, Jill never gave up.

Running, using all of her will power to crash through doors. Attempting to find a way to lose it or to distract it long enough to get far enough away.

There weren’t anymore doors that were strong enough to hold back on this creatures path.

If Jill wasn’t it’s target, if it wasn’t being a total wrecking ball everywhere it followed after her, she would have to admit that it’s resilience would be commendable. However, it made her blood boil that nothing seemingly kept it down or swayed it’s mind to leave her alone.

Stumbling into a massive circular space, there were catwalks with stairs that spun around the room. A massive pit in the middle with odd tanks around it. A brief look down would show it to be almost entirely empty.

Sprinting along the metal grate, making her way out of there, again the Nemesis came bursting through the doors.

Animalistic, it ran towards her along the catwalk on all fours. Leaping after her and causing the metal structure to wane. Snapping and bending under the immense weight of this monster. The platform they both shared broke.

Causing the monster to fall down into the mysterious pit and Jill hold onto the ledge of a platform for as long as she could.

She had found the vaccine before their newest cat-and-mouse chase. What they were all looking for, it had fallen out of her pocket. Sitting in front of her face, just out of hands reach — which were being used to keep herself hanging onto said ledge — a pair of feet came into view.

Nikolai. His boots paused in front of her. A hand flashed before her eyes and, just like that, the vial was gone — taken.

Being held in the hands of the enemy, a shit-eating grin to match his smug face, Nikolai gloated.

Finishing his ‘talk’ with the mild suggestion that Jill should kill the Nemesis. Only then, would he consider giving back the vaccine if she was able to do that.

Money. A money hungry piece of shit he was, Jill stared daggers with her glare before his foot came down. Knocking Jill off of the ledge, forcing her to fall down after the monster inside the pit.

Rolling down the walls that tunnels her lower into the room. Collapsing hard on the floor, her head came up to see the Nemesis, jaw opening and closing. Biting the air that it breathed, it’s whole body moving as it anticipated Jill.

The fight begun.

There were no visible escape points from the pit. No ladder that she could find, the walls of the pit high enough that it would take a long while before she could climb out.

The floor of this pit was out of place. There were corpses and guts in piles, yet where there wasn’t, it was relatively clean. Scrubbed of evidence or barely used. Though it seemed to be cleaned, perhaps more often than could be seen, what could be seen was that the flooring was industrial grade.

Firmly shut doors, likely controlled by a panel that would not be in her vicinity, were made out of a sort of thick metal. Her surroundings were bleak — there was no running out of this one.

Although she knew that it was insistent on remaining alive, Jill used her all to attempt to end the Nemesis’ life.

Throwing grenades, firing her shotgun, dodging out of the way of it’s arching claws.

After some time of firing, the Nemesis began to get tired. Collapsing to the ground due to it’s injuries and Jill creating distance between the two. Whatever she needed to do, it needed to be far away from it.

“Jill, is that you?” The sound of Carlos rang in the speakers overhead.

Looking up, Jill followed the sound of his metallic voice that echoed in the space around her.

“Carlos?” Jill called out.

Searching the catwalk, stairs, Jill managed to spot him behind a glass window. He was inside a room that had full view of the room that she was currently in, including the pit. To spectate or see over whatever that would go on in this room.

“You’re ok!” Carlos said inside his microphone, playing his voice through the speakers. He sounded relieved, she felt relieved.

He hadn’t been killed down here.

“Let me spot for you.” Carlos suggested. Whatever mechanisms he had access to behind that window, it would surely be able to give leverage over this fight.

The containers around the pit might be an indicator to what he would be able to control, as well as a bird’s-eye-view.

“Good idea.” Jill said to herself.

Her focus returned to the Nemesis, it had started to push it’s body up off the ground.

Jill reloaded her weapons, ready to continue the barrage of ammo blasting into it’s body.

The Nemesis went onto it’s hind legs and screamed. Screaming wouldn’t be the right term. A screech or roar that made the containers burst with electric shock. Bursting the electricity outwards and sparks cracking around them both.

Before her eyes, the Nemesis leaped out of the pit and begun sprinting along the curved walls. Circling the pit and climbing up them with ease.

This thing could leave, escape while Jill would be far behind it if the roles were reversed. As it was, Jill was unlucky.

The undead appeared inside the pit. Standing up on their wobbly feet and approach Jill who now needed to be concerned for multiple monsters wanting her death.

Taking down the ones that were closest to her. Jill had lost sight of where Nemesis had disappeared to. It’s running, slamming, legs were quiet. It was hiding.

Carlos’ voice rung over the intercom.

“He’s hiding behind tank two.” Carlos called out.

The containers were numbered, going up to eight, Jill had located the one labeled ‘two’.

Two red buttons near the base of the tank glowed.

Taking her chances, Jill fired two bullets at the glowing red lights.

The tank exploded in lights of flashing blue, electricity sparking in the air. The Nemesis’ body exploded out from behind it’s hiding place and fell onto the ground before her.

Pulling out of shotgun, Jill pointed it directly at a pulsating red appendage that lay on the floor. She hadn’t seen it before, it looked like a worm that fell out of it’s chest. Taking it for a sign of it’s weakness, Jill let the bullets rip apart the red tentacle. It squealed at the damage being inflicted — a good sign for her.

As the Nemesis rose up off the ground, the mysterious appendage disappeared back in it’s body. Crawling back inside it’s chest cavity and hiding inside it’s chest. That had to be it.

It must have startled the monster, because it did not attempt to tackle Jill. Instead it ran around the room in a circle before leaping back up onto the curved walls around the pit.

Running and flashing behind the tanks. Trying to lure Jill into firing prematurely at them. It had a certain amount of intelligence that Jill couldn’t tell if she imagined or not.

As she followed after the Nemesis, pointing her pistol at the containers, the monster leaped onto the front of one of the tanks.

“Number seven!” Carlos’ voice rang in.

She could see the Nemesis, she didn’t need to be told where it was. It was readying itself to leap down to jump on top of her. Body slamming her to the ground as it attempted to do in the city beforehand during their previous encounter.

Firing rounds into the red glowing lights underneath it’s feet, the tank exploded in another set of lights of blue. Shocking electricity coursed through it’s body. The muscles inside of it convulsing and exhausting it’s body in a matter of three seconds.

Though, it did not have enough time to fall down onto the ground.

A crane came in and clamped down onto the Nemesis’ body. A roar of pain reverberated from it’s body. Drowning out the groans of the undead behind Jill.

A singular hand clamped on Jill’s shoulder.

Taking hold of the hand, Jill instinctively grabbed onto the wrist and flipped the undead monster over her shoulder. Making it so that the undead lay sprawled in front of her on it’s back.

Using the pistol that remained in her hand, Jill pressed that barrel of the gun to the center of it’s head and fired once. It’s head exploded instantly.

Coming out of her crouch, Jill spun around and took down the other undead that had stumbled into the pit she too was stuck inside of.

Taking down two of the undead, Jill heard the roars of the Nemesis behind her. Followed by the slamming onto the ground. Underneath her feet the rumbling traveled up her legs. Taking a wild guess, Jill dodged to her left.

A piercing pain to her back made her scream aloud. Spinning around, pointing her weapon at the monster, she had almost missed it’s swipe by a hair. The main attack had been successful in missing but the long claws of it’s hand nicked her badly along her upper back.

Trickles of blood ran down her spine, warming her cooled skin. The sweat that coated her body had chilled her enough that she hadn’t noticed just how cold she was. With the warmth of the blood trailing down her back, an odd comfort that she could feel in it’s heat, it hadn’t been entirely bad.

Turning the pain into a comfort, she hadn’t felt warm in a long while. The exhaustion of her body, going cold, it made her fight for more of that comfort. Thinking to herself, that once she would finally get out of there, she would get to rest. A long deep rest that she would sleep through.

The Nemesis continued the barrage of attacks. It’s arm extending off of what once used to be it’s shoulder. Whipping it around, knocking down the undead that were walking around freely.

It would run around and sprinting in circles, forcing Jill to get to the center of the pit, for it to leap up behind the tanks. As a dog, the creature sprinted along the curved walls again. Kicking up dust and tearing apart the concrete wherever it went.

Behind containers it would hide or attempt to prepare for a launch.

Carlos helped as much as he could, calling out where it hid this time and bringing the crane down to knock it out of the way.

Ultimately, it refused to stay down.

In the center of the pit, the Nemesis swung in wide swipes using it’s grotesque arms. Claws and bones stuck out, spiked outwards to catch anything just out of it’s path. The monster would be twenty feet away from Jill but the elastic arms extended closer.

Backing Jill up to the wall while she dodged backwards away from it’s reach.

Her back colliding with an undead, low growls tickling the hair on her neck, the nails of the dead person scratching her shoulders. Meanwhile, the swinging of the Nemesis’ arm sliced open a gash onto her gut.

A cry of pain rang out past her lips, throwing her elbow behind her. Met with a wet crunch, Jill spun around and fired at the skull of the undead.

How it had been ages since she had seen these types of creatures, yet she remembered just what needed to be done to take each of them.

Mentally, Jill recalled the times where she had almost been dead meat. Those times prepared her for this.

Clutching her gash as she watched the Nemesis begin it’s routine circling above the pit, Jill searched for first aid spray in her pocket. It had been quite the nasty cut.

She wouldn’t have made that same error if it weren’t for her adrenaline running out. Time ticking by the longer she remains at a constant vigilance, the quicker her energy drained. Each time she dodges out of the path of danger, it draws her closer to her inevitable end.

Mouths opening wide to take their piece of her, all they would get would be a gullet filled with ammunition. Jill remained on her toes the best she could, Carlos gave aid the times in which he was able to. They were everywhere, and Jill took them all down.

Jill wasn’t weak in battle.

Her shotgun, pointed down at the pulsating red appendage that emerged from the chest of the Nemesis, shot after shot she witnessed the flesh be ripped apart. What body it had once had shredded apart thanks to the shells. Spraying flesh onto the pit’s floor.

A pained scream from the monster and Carlos’ voice rang overhead.

“Jill, stay back!” to which Jill followed what he had said. Backing away from the approaching of the Nemesis.

The crane that Carlos had control over swung into the body of the beast. Hitting it in it’s entirely, pushing and forcing it to slam into the wall of the pit.

The Nemesis collapsed to the floor, it remained still.

Jill panted, her face covered in sweat and hands cramping how firmly she clenched her fists around it. A body now laying in the mess of it’s own blood, leaking out of it’s mouth, Jill couldn’t help but hope it was dead.

No matter how it seemed, it kept coming back. If that didn’t kill it, Jill didn’t know what could. Dents in the metal mouth of the crane took it’s fair share of damage from the fight. The internal damages that it had done to the enemy surely must be enough.

Carlos’ voice rang over the intercom again.

“Now! Get on!” Carlos voice was loud.

Tucking away her shotgun, Jill limped her way over to the crane that rested on the floor for her to use. Blood and guts were covering the painted yellow metal. A gory sight as her body ached the second her hands gripped the bars of the crane’s head.

As all of the pains that were inflicted and the ones that were already there, Jill’s breath slowed. Her heart beat slowed down from it’s fight response, her survival instinct, her same determination to survive.

Holding onto the bars firmly in her blood soaked hands, her feet resting on another metal bar a part of the crane, it begun to move.

At first it was slow, no sudden movements or jerks of the handles that Carlos controlled.

Strong as it had been during the attacks, the crane creaked and squeaked. Her eyes cast upwards, Jill could see the dents in the metal up close from when the Nemesis had fought back. Cords stretched and, visibly, strained under the control that lead to the control panel Carlos used.

Mild to loud creaks of metal bounced off of the device she held onto. Tightening her fists on the bars for extra support. It hadn’t been a foot off the ground.

While it rose higher up, making it’s way out of the pit, Jill looked down at the Nemesis.

“I’m gonna melt this fucker into mush.” Carlos said, his voice calmer than it had earlier. A contrast to the shakes of the crane.

Down below, the containers that were surrounding the pit begun releasing a green like substance. Flowing out of their respective faucets like water, rapidly filling the pit with green. It was acid.

Once the liquid touched the Nemesis, it awoke. In an instance, like it had been playing dead, it screamed in pain. Flailing it’s extending arms up and around. Trying to swim up out of the liquid. Thrashing in the green acid as red oozed outward from it’s body.

Creating an increasingly red pool around itself and getting deeper in color as seconds passed by.

It was trying to get out, smoke rose off of the body that was drowning in the acid. Scorching off flesh and hair that it once had.

It ate away at it quick. Consuming everything and melting it to a deep shade of red.

Clink, clink, CRASH,

Came from beside Jill.

Her eyes shooting in front of her, seeing the crane in front of her face, the cords between the metal casing of the crane were snapping.

“Shit!” Carlos shouted over the speakers.

Jill took that as a sign, she needed to climb or jump off. The fight against the Nemesis had been too extensive for the machine, the dents proved to be worse than it appeared. Seeing at another angle that the sharp dents were cut metal, having slowly sawed their way through cables that made it so it could be controlled.

Jill reached over her head and started to climb. Her hand reaching higher and securing her foot to a better point. Pulling herself up, climbing on the metal crane as it moved, the rocks of the machine started.

A vibration under her hands and feet, it wouldn’t hold. It would break down soon, she needed to get out.

Needing to find the next spot, swiftly moving higher up to get off of the rickety claw of the crane, it grew loose. It shook the machine as wires snapped in half, the groaning of rusty metal screaming under itself.

It wasn’t secure, tossing her around dangerously.

Jill was losing hold of her grip of the metal, it being covered in blood caused any friction to dwindle to near nothing.

Her hands covered in blood, the rocking of the bolts keeping the crane together, she could feel it.

Underneath the hands she could feel the grinding of metal on metal, chipping away scraps and slowly loosening.

The structure of the crane wasn’t meant to go through blood baths or battles. Smashed into concrete alongside the extraordinary strength that of the Nemesis that sunk into the pool of acid. Red spreading out, the pool rising higher up the walls of the pit.

Jill told herself to not look down, accidentally getting passing glances, it was never advisory to take a peek below at high heights. It could make you lose balance, take your mind off of being focused on the task at hand — literally — and only helped in making the blood pressure drop.

If Jill stayed focused, even getting the cranes claws over to the catwalk, she could easily make this. This crane would never be able to be used again, but that mattered little.

She would make it. Refusing to move her eyesight to below her as the bar to the catwalk that came closer and closer, she was going to make it.

At this height, Jill could make out the window that Carlos was standing behind. His face was focused, staring at her and using his hand to move the machine like a claw machine.

Everything would end soon, she could feel it.

Yet behind Carlos, Jill saw one of the doors open. Entering the room was Nikolai, a grin on his face as he walked behind Carlos.

Carlos must not have heard him, his face didn’t seem to twitch or his focus be drawn away.

In a matter of seconds, Jill couldn’t use her hands or shout loudly at the risk of losing control of her breathing. Nikolai walked behind him, all Jill could do was watch. See what went down before her eyes, that is, until it had been ripped away from her.

Nikolai launched towards Carlos, the control in his hand going crazy and the crane swaying back and forth. A high-pitched grinding of metal echoed off the stone walls all around. The shaking of the machine rocked back and forth, the aftershocks of being jerked around at the control panel.

Jill couldn’t watch all of it happen behind the glass, her face whirled around to stare above her.

A bolt fell out of it’s place. Then a second.

Clinking off of the metal as it fell. Bouncing off of the surfaces and falling down below.

The traitor.

Of course Nikolia never meant to keep his end of the deal.

Back and forth, the tossing around of her body, a heart-dropping ‘
CLANG’
crashed in her eardrums. The silence that followed had deafened all but the sensation of her entire body.

When falling asleep, for most, there is a certain point where you feel like you’re falling. At a tall height, a short one, it’s a bodily reaction. You bolt awake and thank heavens that it wasn’t real, no matter how real it had felt. Sitting upright looking around wondering how your thoughts had been able to convince you that in the blink of an eye, you were falling.

Jill felt a similar feeling to that.

For presumingly no reason at all, Jill’s body told her that she was falling.

Seeing the catwalk a few feet away from her, the crane remained rocking. Her vision was being warped at being swayed around. The bars going up. The bars going down. The bars going up. It goes up. It keeps rising up. Higher.

Her head craning upwards to watch the handrails shoot up into the sky.

Holding onto the metal bar with both hands, gripping on for dear life, the crane remained the same. Yet, as Jill watched in slow-motion the rails flee away from her, the body of the crane too was leaving her behind.

Eyes shooting down, feeling like it went down slowly to see, the cranes claw had detached from the body of the crane entirely.

Nothing else was moving, except for her.

Her body felt light. Much lighter than the metal bar that she held onto. Her fists letting go and, they too, fell out from her. Dropping down. Her eyes looking after it, the pool. Being in perfect view below her, she felt her heart drop to her stomach, dread filling her chest.

Thus, in dreadful realization, this should have been when Jill should have woken up.

It was slow.

Jill could think all of her thoughts that ran through her mind as she stared with wide eyes. Time gave her seconds to think her last few to herself.

Ultimately, it was rooted in the fact that this couldn’t be it.

It made little sense. Of all the things that she had been through, Spencer Manor, saving the city. Dread. As one of those dreams, Jill pleaded for her mind to wake her up.

Oh so real, how it made her think such a thing, it surely couldn’t be.

While the pit filled with green liquid quickly approached, Jill got to see the metal hit down first.

In an instant, smoke rose up at impact. Not necessarily bubbling or making any big commotion. The air that Jill breathed in started to tickle her throat — burning.

In seconds, Jill’s body hit the surface of the pool of acid. A clear spot for Jill, a nearly untouched place away from the Nemesis’ body and the metal crane’s claw.

As a pool of water in a beach, it hadn’t felt foreign…

Her back slammed onto the surface, striking a spike of pain up her neck. Sinking in, the pool welcomed her back in.

It hadn’t been for too much longer that that acid begun reacting to her.

At first, it was hot from the collision of her flat back hitting the surface. Then, it grew hotter. Very hot. Her entire body now in the pool. Soaking her entirely from head to toe, she was fully submerged.

The tingling on her skin burned, turned into a scorching that Jill let out a scream of pain. The acid filling her mouth.

Her arms flailing in the pool, Jill knew how to swim.

Bringing herself back up to the surface, Jill spat out the acid that had gotten in. Her gum and teeth felt sensitive to the air as she gasped for air. Using her legs to keep kicking herself up to the surface, the acid ate away at everything.

Her eyes stung keeping them open, searching for a ledge that she could pull herself up. Her vision was hazy each second she tried to force them open. Using her arm to wipe away the corrosive liquid, it made it all the more irritating. Wiping off her own skin.

Unknowingly to Jill, her eyes were melting. Her eyesight going from clear, to blurry, to red until it went totally dark. The jelly of her eyeballs were of similar feeling to the acid that burned off the skin of her face. Seeping out and running down her cheeks, dripping down back into the pool.

Her arms, trying to swim her way to a ledge she had seen before she lost her eyesight, were melting together with the fabric of her clothes. When no more of her clothes were left, the red burning flesh of her body were slicking to other parts of herself. Tearing off her skin and mended them together.

The pool that Nemesis had made while it had been being devoured by the acid pool had been similar. Red spread outwards, away from Jill’s body.

If Jill still had her hearing, disintegrated just as her nostrils from smelling the scent of rancid burning hair, she would be hearing the screams of Carlos.

Unbeknownst to Jill, Nikolai had gotten away again. His mission almost complete. The vaccine, the Nemesis dead, Jill soon to be dead. Carlos, left behind to watch his newest teammate, his last friend, melt into blood. Panicking over the speaker and shouting out to Jill, who heard not one of his words.

With the lack of eyesight, relying on little by little things, being stripped away from her, Jill felt there was glue over her limbs. Each time there was friction to her thighs or her arms touching her torso, it stuck. Giving way easily, but with great cost.

Providing faster access for the corrosive liquid to seep into her blood stream. Into her torso, it filled in between the gaps.

The edge of the pit’s ledge couldn’t be far, Jill thought.

Acid now in her vital organs, trickling in on the widening gap in her back and her gut, taking rule over everything, it ate everything. Faster than it did to the outside of her body, her torso was being hollowed out. Her internal organs melting out of the holes that had been chipped away in her body.

One thing after the other, Jill thought that she was swimming towards the ledge. Jill had lost control of her motion long ago. When she had lost her eyesight, the acid seeped into her brain. Motor functions worked on auto pilot, Jill was flailing in the pool just as Nemesis had. Her natural instinct being to get out, which meant to move.

As the acid ate everything, her legs slowed down. Sinking her chin back into the pool.

A short lived saving of her brain, keeping her head above the surface, she dipped down low enough for her mouth to be covered.

Breathing through her nose was no option. Soon covering that the same.

Lower. Lower. Lower.

Jill sank back into the pool. She had nothing left.

Her body going into a sense of shock, her mind had been cooked before she landed into the pit a second time. No thoughts appeared to her last moments, yet her instinctual emotions: fear. Confusion. Emotions were all that her brain could focus on. No expression, the confusion of a baby that had recently been born, to cry aloud for help.

A squeak of a cry under the surface, a meek bubble rising to pop once it reached the top. Her throat had been torn, the bubbles of air gurgling out of the passages of her decayed throat.

In the darkness, alone, confused without any sort of pain, Jill ceased.

In the matter of seconds, the last of Jill Valentine will be made of red liquid. A soup, the perfect side for a sandwich, if put beside one.

After the few months that had been from Spencer Manor to then, Jill could finally have a dreamless sleep. The exhaustion that came with taking down the mega organization that was Umbrella Corporation, there would be no more worries.

Barry was already dead, hopefully in a better place. Rebecca was gone from the public and in hiding. Chris. That would be the one person that would miss Jill. After all they had been through together, he just may be the one person who would mourn her.

An odd comfort returned in the midst of the agony. The warmth that welcomed Jill in with open arms wrapped around her in an embrace of solace. Behind the acid eating away everything that was ever Jill, there was that warmth.

Seeping out of existence in seconds, Jill wasn’t thinking anymore. Her brain dissolving, for a beat, her head didn’t ache from the lack of rest.

All of the stress and worries vanished just as her body disappeared into red mist…

The mission. Orders from Umbrella to take down Jill Valentine and the S.T.A.R.S. team in the city had been completed, it would seem.

Leaving behind no one else for the Nemesis to go after.

Bodies melting together. A mixture of DNA touched each other. A face melding in with another’s…

Something might still be alive in there.

The corroding brain matter that remained of the Nemesis swirled with something else that used to be. Transferring flashes of memories: faces, names. The one and only thing that the Nemesis was made for was to kill. Were these new orders.

A new target…?

Carlos better get out of there. A drop in his stomach as he sees a ripple of movement come from the still pool.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sheltered conversations between the higher ups were no secret. There was a spy in their midst.

The presidents daughter had been kidnapped from her college, mysteriously appearing in Europe by eye witnesses.

Whoever was behind this, they had to have insider information. Someone was talking to the other side or was on the other side — this was bad.

With the lack of trust between the officers and soldiers, they sent in their most trustworthy special agent, Leon Kennedy.

Having escaped from Raccoon City with Sherry Birkin under his care, they were inevitably questioned extensively. Later forcing Leon into an ultimatum — the one he chose being — to be recruited by the military. Trained watchfully and viciously to become the special agent he would later become.

Working for the president and following all orders.

It hadn’t been easy ever since Raccoon City. Day in, day out, Leon’s spirit had been chipped away. The trauma of that night lingering. He hadn’t been able to save anyone, except for Claire Redfield and Sherry. The betrayal of Ada Wong, his chest hurt each time it’s memory cropped up.

That night, everything in Leon changed.

That night lead to Leon flying to Spain in search for the ‘special package’. On the drive towards the location that the presidents daughter — Ashley — was last seen, they made occasional stops. The drivers being ever so kind enough to drive Leon there themselves. Commenting on Leon’s lack of teammates and the like.

During one of their stops to relieve themselves, one of the men hadn’t returned for some time.

Taking the initiative, Leon went on ahead to look for him.

Leon had seen him walking this way, he couldn’t be far. Walking around branches, bushes, there was a whole lot of forestry around obscuring his view.

The middle of nowhere Spain, an understatement. A dirt road that turned into creating the damn road oneself.

Leon wasn’t here to complain, though he spoke to himself of the inconvenience the driver had created. He had disappeared.

Following after the footsteps in the dirt, it hadn’t been light out. The sun gone and leaving minimal to see.

Coming across a vine covered iron gate, Leon moved past it. Seeing up ahead, the mutilated corpse of a cow lay dead on the earth, not a sound other than Leon’s breathing was heard.

No footsteps around him, there was no other living thing, other than the footprints he followed. No living thing wanted to be around here or be known.

Arriving to a house along the trail he followed, Leon took note of how it was out of the blue. Trees growing on the front yard, the grime on the sides of the house. It looked ready for a cleaning or some reconstruction.

The driver couldn’t have gone in there.

Beginning the exploration of the house, Leon took passive looks in each room he passed before entering a room with a man. Startling him as the villager had been staring at him. After a brief exchange of wide open stares, the man walked away towards the fireplace. Bent over and tossing wood into a fire.

Something felt off.

Attempting to speak to the man, Leon had been ignored entirely. The villager going on without mind.

Leon walked closer, scanning this room. A dinning area and a kitchen. There on the floor, something familiar caught his eye.

Bending over the pick it up, it was made of leather. A sort of wallet from what Leon made out. Flipping it open, there were no credit cards or cash. It was a badge. One with the face of the officer that had walked off away from the car; the same one who Leon had been looking for.

Splatters of blood were on the screen of the badge.

Moments later, the floorboards creaked.

The other man in the room held an axe, ready to swing down on Leon.

The brief fight between the two finished and the man fell down with his neck snapped. In a deathly angle, the man wouldn’t be getting back up ever again.

So it begun, the searching and attempted rescuing of Ashley Graham.

The village was filled with cult members. Crawling up and down the walls.

Thanks to the help of his military training, Leon had been able to take each of them down. They were no innocents, what he initially believed.

Approaching and seeing them burning alive the other officer from the vehicle Leon had left. Abducting and keeping the presidents daughter hostage. Trying to cut Leon up into tiny pieces of meat.

A few times the villagers got close to succeeding. Leon had been saved by the mysterious, hypnotic, possession of whatever had taken over them. He could see it in their expression on their faces.

Their eyes were bloody, red and puffy, no life behind them. Speaking in their native tongue and shouting at Leon with some sort of sanity. A one-eighty from what he had experienced in Raccoon City. Those things were mindless, hungry for flesh, dead.

These people, they were vastly different. They hungered not for meat but for blood. Wishing to kill Leon and wanting to chop his head off his shoulders. Equipped with farm tools, they hunted Leon down.

Thanks to their retreat and them shutting the doors of the church they fled into, even though he were outnumbered, they were of no comparison to Leon.

Then some time later, Leon had gotten captured. Tied up by chains and locked inside a small basement like room.

Tugging on the cuffs that held them up, a voice called out behind him.

“Hey, stop it!” A man’s voice.

He didn’t sound like the others, he sounded normal. Sane.

“Oi, Yanqui, got a name?” the man asked.

Leon stood up off of the floor he had been sitting on. Not sore, he must not have been out for too long.

The man also stood up from where they were once sat back-to-back. Getting a better look at who he was trapped inside of this room with, he had too been locked to the same chain on the opposite end. Forcing them to be stuck together.

The man wore stylistic clothes, though mildly simplistic. Comparing to the rest of the villagers, he was more modern than the rest. No blood or guts stained the white shirt that peeked out of the jacket. Mud covered his boots, but his pants were dusty and dirty.

If Leon had to take any guesses, this man was a victim of whatever was happening in this village, not an enemy.

“Leon.” Leon replied.

After taking in that the man was of no threat, too wanting to get out of there, Leon looked around the room for a way out. The walls, the ceiling, a way to break out of the handcuffs.

“Quiet type, eh? I’m Luis Serra.” Luis said. “And guess — you, me — picked the wrong spot to vacation, eh?”

Leon ignored him, though listening.

Whoever this Luis man was, Leon needed to break them out first. The top priority was to get to Ashley. Being stuck down here with this man, whoever he may truly be, needed to keep it down.

Walking around the room with the chain keeping him from moving too far away, tugged on the chain to get over the a shelf. Checking for any signs of tools that could lockpick with or break the chains.

“Hey, stop it! You move, I move…” Luis called out. “And I’m beat up enough as it is!”

Leon gave up on his search. From what he was able to see, the villagers really used everything. Taking all and any sort of tools to use as weapons, it would appear.

Looking up at the chain they were both stuck to, nailed to the ceiling, there was something there.

Pulling hard on the chain, the wheel like contraption it was linked to whined. It was weak.

Leon could break it off of the ceiling.

Giving more hard yanks, Leon made progress.

“I can see your thinking.” Luis sounded interested. Hopeful.

Leon sighed, he couldn’t take him talking. Fooling around and chatting wasn’t something Leon had the privilege of doing anymore, whipped out of his book for good. Part of Luis reminded Leon of someone he used to know, he knew him well. That is, before he died in that city.

Yanking more on the chain, it would break soon.

“Bet you’ve been in spots like this before.” Luis teased. An obvious way to lessen the stress of the situation — teasing.

It was bothering Leon, a hair. He hadn’t had anything go his way this day, he hadn’t even gotten a good view of the presidents daughter, and this man kept talking.

Zoning him out, Leon focused on trying to break them both out so they can split paths.

“My guess…you’re here looking for someone?” Luis said.

Leon breathed through it. He was under no obligation to give out any information as for the purpose of him being here. Only to extract the target and return her to her father.

“One more guess.” Luis started, “Maybe…some missing señorita?”

Leon knew some Spanish, he knew what Luis had just alluded to.

Turning around, Leon asked.

“A young girl?” Luis was smiling, having gotten the other’s attention, Leon couldn’t fool around all day. She could potentially be killed at any given moment, Leon couldn’t let anyone else die because of him.

Yanking on the chain hard, Luis stumbled forward. The smirk whipped off his face, a grimace as we was dragged forward towards Leon. Pulling Luis’ body up to stand on his tip-toes, arms tight above his head, Leon leaned in.

“Talk. Now.”

He could see the mischief remain in his eyes, swimming behind the discomfort.

“See, heard chatter about moving a señorita.” Luis answered, giving a half answer to his question.

“Moving her. Where?” Leon pressed. There were forest and castles around where they currently were, that could mean anywhere.

Leon recognized that this man, Luis, wouldn’t be entirely unfaithful. Though there was the hint of deceit in his tone. Letting the chain slacken after seeing how close he was standing in front of him, without speaking, decided to work together. Pulling on the chain so that the device keeping them stuck in this room would break off the ceiling.

Working as a team, Leon got the information that Luis saw someone being dragged to a church. There was one in the square where he had been knocked out. It wasn’t old, as Luis had described it to be. Was it that one or another. It couldn’t be that one, he would check nonetheless.

Finally, when they broke the chain off of the ceiling, a loud crash sounded off.

Luis had fallen on the ground once the resistance disappeared.

Due to that, Luis hadn’t seen one of the villagers coming in the see what was going on.

Yanking on the chain, hard, Leon managed to pull Luis out of the way from being axed.

They were both still locked in their cuffs.

Using the long chain as a weapon, Luis and Leon worked on taking down the violent villager.

Wrapping the chain around his neck and snapping it in half.

His body fell to the floor with a clatter of metal.

When Leon looked up, Luis had found the key to their chains on the dead man.

“Hey, we’re not done here!” Leon yelled at Luis. Running after Luis only to be stuck now to the corpse on the floor than the ceiling. Giving the man enough room to walk backwards to the exit of the room.

“Later, amigo!” Luis smirked and tossed the key away from the door he ran out of.

Leon watched as the man escaped. Vanishing behind the dark halls and out of sight.

Taking the defeat, Leon had barely gotten anything from the man — Luis. Someone had been moved to an old church. Luis didn’t sacrifice Leon to the villager. He hadn’t been entirely useless, perhaps inexperienced in this matter.

Leon walked over to the key to unlock his cuffs. Letting them both collapse on the floor, Leon wouldn’t be chasing after Luis.

Leon got the feeling that he would be seeing this man again.

After getting out of the building, Leon had managed to locate his gear and another strange individual of the village. The Merchant. Offering deals for a price and being overall suspicious. For no reason at all, the Merchant was actually quite helpful. Business was business it would seem.

He didn’t appear to care for these villagers either, or more precisely, the cult.

Bits and pieces of information was gathered from the man — his face hidden for unknown purposes — he gave far less than what Luis gave. How Leon got his information was through the context of the requests the Merchant put through. Handing out blue papers that said enough that needed to be known.

Around the corners that Leon walked around, he half expected for a rake to be shoveled into his face. Scratch out his eye, blind him, holding his knife at the ready to counter any attack that came.

Once Leon saw it, he knew. The church that Luis spoke about had been located — and with a cemetery. Walking up to the doors, they were locked by some sort of device that needed items to open them.

Running around, boating over the waters of a lake to kill a massive water beast. Going in and out of houses to search for items to break into the old church, it was time to get in.

And there she was, Ashley.

She had been startled at first, but she calmed down after seeing that Leon wasn’t one of the cultists. That he was ordered by her father to come rescue her. After that, Ashley did her best to stick to Leon’s side.

Running through the forest and village to find a way to escape. The helicopter that would be coming to pick them both up needed room to land. They needed to head north, out of the village they were trapped in.

As they were fleeing from another mob of villagers, the pair came across a bridge. A rickety and strained thing. A storm was coming their way; the wind the slammed past them both blinded what was ahead. There was a torch, the flame lit part of the pathway across the bridge.

Walking slowly over the wooden bridge, a big shadow was before them. It was a building, safety.

Leon would try and lead himself and Ashley over there to hide from the cultists.

Just as they stepped foot off of the bridge, the building in front of him had it’s door open. A fire was lit inside, having not been there before, neither had the man that was standing inside.

“Hey! Over here!” it was Luis.

It had been a minute since Leon had seen him — so he was alive.

Leon hadn’t thought about him too extensively since their meeting. Pondering on the reason for him seemingly being uninfected and for his for being in the village. Leon didn’t forget that Luis had helped, in his own way, in rescuing Ashley from the cult.

Behind them, the villagers were closing in. Holding torches and marching over the frail bridge.

Both Ashley and Leon ran towards Luis. Running past a gate that was partially open. Once past, Leon begun closing the gates, bolting the entry shut to be safe. He knew that the villagers would break or climb over the damn thing, he needed to create time for them.

Leon needed to check on Ashley and find out what Luis was doing out here.

“Come on!” Luis shouted.

As it was secured, Leon and Ashley ran inside the house. Ashley first then him following after. Luis slamming the door shut as he came in.

Leon felt fine, but Ashley was winded. Bent over and breathing heavily at the high adrenaline they both were stuck in. She must not be used to running for her life, like Leon.

Checking on her, making sure she wouldn’t get sick or had received any injury, his attention swiftly went to Luis.

“You!” Leon said.

Walking towards Luis, the man in question started backing up in pace. Holding his hands up and wearing a nervous smile — different from the one he last saw on him. Leon forgot exactly what situation they were in, focusing only on Luis’ lips.

Luis had been running around this village the same, why. He hadn’t been able to explain himself, leaving Leon behind to escape alone in that building. Leon hadn’t been able to finish his questioning because of that. If he was part of Ashley’s abduction, but that would be silly considering he was helping them both this much.

It didn’t match what he had gathered from the man. Why would they lock up someone that had been working with them. Unless, he hadn’t been.

“Hey… Listen, about earlier, I-” Luis started but was interrupted by Leon.

“Yeah, about that…” Leon was closing in.

Luis’ back collided with the wall, giving Leon the chance to grab onto Luis’ shirt. Clenching it in his fist, Leon glared at the man. He would question him thoroughly this time, get all the answers he needed to decide on what to do with this man.

Leon wouldn’t kill him, he had no reason to. Yet, he had been trained to terminate anyone who may potentially be a threat, especially towards the president’s daughter. That, that sense of looking for the best in people, hadn’t left Leon. Hadn’t been burned away in that explosion of the city — he denied it all the same.

“Hey. I see you found your ‘missing señorita’.” Luis stared behind Leon’s shoulder, most probably at Ashley.

Leon, looking to see her, she stood there watching them both. Shocked and still catching herself from their fleeing moments ago. Sweat covered her face, but she didn’t miss a beat.

“The ‘señorita’ has a name, and it’s Ashley. And you are?”

“Name’s Luis.” He answered Ashley. “Encantado.”

“Great.” Leon interrupted Luis’ playful tone. “We all have names. Now then-”

Leon shoved Luis into the wall, causing the other to wince. Not wanting to do serious damage, but proving a point that he could if he wanted.

Finally, Leon would be able to get answers out of this mystery man — Luis. There were plenty of things going on around here, more than an abduction. There was something wrong around here. Luis, he seemed to know more than he lead on.

“Who are you? And what’re you doing here?” Leon asked, leaning in.

The man smelt fine, considering that he must have been running away from the cult. The scent of cologne was hidden under the man’s natural scent. The air around here sticking to his clothing, Leon must smell the same. But the hint of chemicals ingrained underneath it all didn’t slip from the notice of Leon.

However, no matter how convenient it was — now that Leon had his hands free — he was soon reminded where they were.

“Very good questions, unfortunately…” Luis answered, nodding his head towards the window the was beside them both.

Leon looked over, the gate had been broken in. The villagers were beginning to flow inside, looking around for the two of them. They would come in soon, the three of them were trapped.

“Hide. Now!” Leon called out, staring out the window. Guessing for when they would come bursting in the windows and front door.

Leon had been close to getting his answers, Luis acted funny ever since they had met. In reality, it would have reminded him of a younger version of himself — the talkative, wanting-to-be-friendly-first approach — then who he had become.

“In that case, here, help me.” Luis called out.

Looking behind him from the window he stared out of, Leon saw that Luis was speaking to him. Standing by a fallen wardrobe and bent over to pick it up.

Catching on fast, Leon rushed over to aid in lifting the wardrobe.

Instructing Ashley to crawl underneath it to a hole in the wall on the other side, they both let the wardrobe fall back down. Locking and hiding away Ashley from the villagers if they were to come in.

Gone behind the wardrobe, Leon and Luis went back to the window he had been staring outside of. The villagers were running around, searching for them still.

Leon looked over at Luis who held a gun. Not towards him, but at the ready for a fight that was to come. There was no way out of this than to fight.

Leon hadn’t even known that Luis had been carrying. Leon’s weapons were too gone when he woke up in that basement, Luis’ must have been there too alongside his own. None of Leon’s items were missing when he found his own.

The gun explained how he was as unharmed as he was. Luis had every chance to pull it out on Leon or Ashley in that house, yet he hadn’t. He had kept it on, concealed from his sight. Now seeing it, Leon at first was cautious. Then, it turned into gratitude.

Luis wouldn’t be running out of here like he had the time before. The building they were both locked inside of the first time they met, it too was surrounded by the residents of the village. Luis could run away and leave them behind, they weren’t after him. He must have known that. And Luis stayed.

Gratitude. Relief. Eased mind.

Leon was used to doing everything himself, even in Raccoon City. The military training taught him to never rely on anyone, that if you did — your partner — would leave you vulnerable. If you didn’t need one, you would be unstoppable.

It was nice. He wouldn’t admit to that either.

If Leon had had Luis there in Raccoon City those years ago, maybe things would have been different. Better.

Instead, he got a spy — Ada — who used him to get the virus for herself. Used.

What was Luis using him for. He could run out of this building and escape, he’s done it before when they first met. Even on their second encounter, Leon didn’t come off any lighter in aggression than he had in that room they woke in together.

That was what tickled Leon’s brain, what could he be possibly be being used for. Luis was putting his life on the line, for what, for who.

“OK. It’s game time.” Luis said, a straight and ready expression. He was nervous, if Leon had to guess.

What was there to be nervous about? A lot.

The villagers kept trickling in. Breaking through windows, mowing down doors, animal headed persons chasing after them with pitchforks. It was no exaggeration, they kept funneling in. One after the other. It was unending.

The population of this village must have been bigger than it appeared. Only a few houses and buildings were seen, they were crawling through the broken glass of the windows.

Luis, again surprising Leon, was of great help.

Villagers that attempted to sneak up behind Leon were either shot in the face, or shouted at Leon to look behind him. One or two managed to get Leon into a choke hold, Luis rushed in to give a roundhouse kick the aggressor. Successfully breaking the lock that the villagers had gotten.

More came. It was unending.

Luis tossing his own ammunition to Leon when he started to get low. Giving as much aid to Leon even though he too needed to save himself. They were a team.

Leon and Luis were pushed backwards to go up the stairs. The main floor was crowded and the flow of villagers tumbling into the room were growing. Lining up outside to pull themselves in.

It would stop soon, they were both running out of ammunition. Leon used his knives he had collected to take out the villagers who tried to stab at Luis. Piercing their temple with the tip of his blade, destroying their brain.

Collapsing onto the floor, there had to have been forty villagers that they had taken down. Preserving their ammunition by combat.

Leon’s blades were breaking too, however. Shattering to a hundred pieces and leaving them essentially useless.

“Leon! This way, hurry!” Ashley yelled out, the slam of a door behind him called him attention to her.

Thankfully, none of the villagers were by the door, letting Ashley be away from the danger.

Leon reached over the grab onto Luis’ bicep. Yanking him away from an approaching villager, and shoved him towards the opened door.

Leon, again, was last the leave. Making sure that none of them were going to launch after either of the two others. Hearing the slams of footsteps, Leon chose then to follow after them.

Fleeing from the building, Leon followed behind the both of them. There was an entrance to a road that lead north, towards where Ashley and Leon needed to go.

Crossing the threshold, Leon spun around to see that the villagers were following after them.

One was there, holding up his weapon. Readying to throw it or rush towards them.

The device they were standing on had a manual barricade, one that would close the path for the villagers to follow after them. Finding out how to activate it, Leon saw the draw string.

Shooting at the wheel that kept the chains taught — holding up the barricade to let traffic in or out — it collapsed. A historical recreation of a manual barricade falling down, it piercing and then crushed the skull of the villager that attempted to follow after them. Permanently closing the way to either side. A gush of blood and brain matter spraying out and landing on Leon’s shoes. The projection being incredibly strong, staining his boots.

Behind Leon, the two — Ashley and Luis — breathed heavily. Leon hadn’t been phased, in comparison to them, being used to extreme circumstance.

Ashley looked unharmed, if a little startled again. Holding her hands to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. There was no way they could climb over or break this barricade. They were safe.

As for Luis, looking about ready to start heaving, kept to himself for once.

Problems rose up as Ashley started to cough up blood.

Leon, at her side, watched in horror as she had her palm covered in blood. Some tainting her lips, her eyes horrified at the sight. Wide staring at her hand, what was happening.

Luis had gained interest in Ashley. Taking her hand and inspecting the blood.

Leon looked over Luis, questioning mentally what he knew.

Luis proceeded to explain to them both that Ashley was infected. The same type of infection that changed the people of the village. Going on the describe how it was still the early stages of the infection, plaga, that it could still be cured.

A surgery.

Cutting open Ashley’s chest to remove the infection from her body was to be performed.

Then it was revealed.

Luis pulled open his white shirt, showing off a massive scar along his chest.

Leon stepped closer, seeing the scar had been healed for some time. What did it mean. Luis eluded that he knew how to remove the plaga. That he ‘knew’ the know-how of the operation.

It had been done on himself, or he had once had a partner that was now deceased. However, Luis begun to walk away from them both.

“No worries. See, I have a plan.” Luis smirked, staring at Leon. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”

Leon had been on the fence. Looking over at Ashley, scared for what she would soon become. She didn’t want any of this. She wanted to go back home. This was never supposed to happen to her. She’s an innocent.

Sighing, Leon nodded at Luis. A part of the old Leon, very much still existed somewhere in there.

“Great! We’re partners then!” Luis said, excited.

As his back was turned, Luis already leaving them behind, Leon still had questions.

He hadn’t been able to question him in the building they woke up in. The chance slipped through his fingers by the villagers that were chasing both Ashley and him. Now, he was walking away. Without any trouble or running out of Leon’s vicinity.

“Hey, why are you-” Leon, this time, was interrupted.

“No time for any questions. The clock is ticking!” Luis brushed Leon off.

Leon ignored him.

“Why are you helping up?” Leon finally got to answer.

Luis, standing in the rain, paused. His shoulders slacking and his head looking up at the sky.

“Because it makes me feel better. Let’s leave it at that.” Luis replied. “I will contact you later.”

Then like that, Luis was gone.

Left alone, it was the two of them again.

Ashley hadn’t been as much help as Luis, understandably so, which made the future fights more difficult. Needing to keep her out of harms way while killing the people who were trying to take her back. There were many now — outside of the village.

Eventually arriving at a slaughterhouse, Leon had a bad feeling. Instructing Ashley to wait outside for him.

His intuition had been correct. Inside was the priest, also the leader of the village. Wearing his long robe, massive stature towering over Leon, he hadn’t at first appeared to be the same as the rest of them — the villagers. He most definitely being infected, the man locked the door.

There was no exit.

Méndez, Bitores Méndez.

A tough fight, his height being the main advantage he had. Punching his fist forward, trying to land a hit on Leon. But that advantage had it’s problems. It gave Leon all the more room to dodge and run out from his path.

It all went well, that had been until Méndez had been torn in half. Not entirely, might be added.

His spine, a single piece of bone, kept himself together.

Monstrous limps sprouted out from his body, claws and pincers connected to his body. The plaga. Luis, he had failed to mention that the body could mutate into
that
.

Some of the villagers, their heads exploding, had sprouted tendrils from their necks. Blades that swiped out and nicked the skin, nasty things. Were those the same. It had to have been.

What did Luis know. He had escaped their fate, how. It couldn’t have been easy, but Ashley needed to be cured.

Not to mention, Leon knew almost certainly that he too had been infected. Flashes of memory crossing his mind and hearing voices. He hadn’t gotten the cough like Ashley had, perhaps there may be a cure for him too. For now, before calling out for Luis to get them to the cure, Leon had to take down this deformed human being.

The building got on fire thanks to their fight. Burning on the floor and up the walls. Breaking apart the wooden platform that he stood on.

After defeating Méndez, firing shotgun blasts at his chest, the man fell limp on the fire covered floor.

Through one of the broken windows, Leon saw Ashley.

Smiling as she stared at him, she motioned for him to go over to her.

“Leon, hurry!” Ashley shouted over the sound of the flames.

The building had been burning, crumbling down over his head.

Leaping out the window, Leon rolled on the ground.

Pats on his back, it was Ashley. Putting out the flames that had managed to catch on his clothes.

“You’re welcome?” Ashley smiled down at Leon, holding out her hand for him to take.

Although he could get up easily on his own, Leon took her hand and let her help him back up. A hint of a smile spreading on his lips.

It was nice. Nice not having to look over your shoulder at every instance and being able to rely on someone. Even to hold their hand as you stand up with your own strength, it felt better than how he had learned to become.

As it were, it was calm.

No villager would be coming after them again. A temporary relief for them both.

Leon needed to find a cure for her. That monster, the person who had been mutated into a monster, would show exactly why they wanted Ashely. Change her, force her to become like them. Why.

For that reason, Leon needed to find Luis.

The man had come up more often in his mind as they had both walked around silently.

Luis made it sound like he wanted to help them. That he wanted to be better. He said that it made him feel better. About what?

Leon needed to get him alone, get real answers from him. No more half answers, no more questions. Luis had been here longer than any of them. He had been here long enough that he had found a cure for this plaga. How did he know about it, how did he learn about it.

A pit was forming in his throat. Ada. It couldn’t be a similar situation as her, right?

Leon couldn’t let himself be used again, after the catastrophe that already happened thanks to him.

She had, purposefully or not, destroyed him. Ada, how Leon thought about her ever since he last saw her. The root to all of his lack of trust in outsiders. It’s been years, but the scars were still there. Her falling down into the bottom of that hole.

She had to have been trying to save someone.

She had.

Ada let go of Leon because he would have fallen down there with her. She had saved Leon, let him make the future choice for himself.

A strike of pain shot in his chest, Luis couldn’t be the same.

If it turned out that Luis had been using him, or worse, was trying to genuinely save everyone — Leon couldn’t see him die.

Luis, Leon would go looking for him.

Ashley wore a bright enough smile, but that meant little with the plaga growing in her body.

As they walked down the road, away from the burning slaughterhouse, Leon had gotten his message he had been waiting for. It had been as they approached an ancient looking draw bridge to a castle. Made out of gray stone and flags of a family that lived — lives — inside.

On his phone screen, an image of Luis appeared on the screen.

“Hola. Luis here. You guys still around?” Luis spoke softly. Leon stared back at Luis, confused for his softness. Not to say it wasn’t welcomed.

“Well, I wanted to go home, but Ashley just had to see this castle first.” Leon joked.

Luis was taken aback by the comment. Leon hadn’t joked often with the man, he would have loved the old Leon. Though, Luis also didn’t seem to mind the current Leon.

“Perfect, because I have a present I want to give you.” Luis answered back. “Medicine that will help to suppress the progress of your…problem.”

Leon and Ashley walked over the bridge, not seeing any enemies rushing towards them. Keeping his gun in hand in case someone had anything in mind.

“Where do we go?” Leon asked.

“Let’s see…” Luis started, “Come to the courtyard inside of the castle. We can meet up there. ¡Ciao!”

With a small wave to the camera, the connection was cut.

Leon hadn’t bothered to ask anything else of the man. He would ask later.

As surprising as it was, this castle was functional. Filled with cultists. Wonderful.

Having functional cannons, and persons manning them. The cultists wore metal masks or had their face’s bare for any to see. Wearing dirty robes with dirt and black powder covering their clothing.

When they both arrived inside the castle’s walls, it was temporary relief. The inside was fancy, but in the ancient sort of way. The halls were covered in dirt and blood, the walls had scratch marks and dents all over. Chains were littering the floors, covered by dust and dirt. It was ancient because it felt no one should have lived here in a long time.

Leon hadn’t been welcomed to many castles, but he at least expected some upkeep. For cult members, they should in the very least be mindful of how filthy they can be.

A sickly man-child who’s skin showed red strain all over. From his face down his neck, he was covered in broken capillaries and scars. The plagas.

The man of the mansion, Ramón, introduced himself immediately upon Leon and Ashley walking up the stairs.

What had been learned was that Ashley was to be used to spread the infection around the United States. That was why they wanted her.

After refusing to cooperate and hand over Ashley, Ramón ordered for them to ‘feel at home’.

Amusing, considering that all that Leon felt was their definition of ‘home’.

Out from the doors were cult members, attacking and trying to get hold of Ashley. The warm welcome from the owner of the castle was as appreciated as them being denied Ashley without a fight.

Following after the fight, the two were able to explore some of the castle.

Exploring rooms, stealing artifacts so it could be sold to the Merchant. Close in feeling to being in the village, but with the sense of luxury. Oddly enough.

The vases that were around the halls were pretty to look at, until it got destroyed by Leon. The paintings on the wall were old, frozen in a time from long ago. A portrait of people who would die from a heart attack after seeing their castle being in a state of ruin.

Shimmying through cracks in the walls, spreading the grains of rock that fell from the ceiling, there were all sorts of places that they needed to explore.

Running up and around the castle with Ashley behind him, hiding away behind his back when they entered a new room. There were cultists behind every corner, pouncing onto them both to attempt her capture. From the dungeons with a Garrador chained to the wall to a massive room with dark pools with animal fountains.

There were many cultists in the most recent room they found themselves in. A massive indoor room with pools of black water covering the slim pathways they traversed mindfully. Moving past a pair of mythological animal fountains — both resembling a dragon — there were a pair of heavy looking doors ahead at the top of a short flight of stairs.

Climbing up the luxurious steps, Leon pushed open the tall wooden doors, revealing a small garden.

The small, circular path around an elegant fountain, there were flowers. It would be romantic, a peaceful place to rest yourself, if it weren’t for the destroyed stones that broke off of the castle. Rubble and crumbled parts of the castle were littered around the pathway forward.

Making their way past the small garden, Leon started to recognize where they would be in the castle. The courtyard. They were close, near Luis.

“Looks like the right place.” Leon said, looking around and seeing the comforting purple flames of the Merchant just ahead.

The celebration was short lived at the sound of Ashley crying out in pain.

Leon spun around, looking over at her, there was something wrong.

“You OK?” Leon asked, taking a step closer, his heart rate picked up. He hadn’t looked over her to make sure their previous encounter with the cultists didn’t injure her. Had he been blind to something. Or, perhaps, it was the infection.

“I think so. Uh-” Ashley said before her face fell. Softened. Her eyes losing focus, her body swayed. In a second, Ashley fell forward, right into Leon’s arms.

Catching her effortlessly, Leon felt hands on him.

He had barely registered the gruff voice of Ashley before she leaped out of his arms. His knife in her hands, Leon’s heart dropped.

Was it too late?

Ashley leaped towards Leon, intending to stab him, but he had caught the blade with his hand. Pain and blood dripping from the wound that was created.

Now that she was closer, her face, her eyes, they were dark. Black veins were spreading out from around her eyes and deepened her stare. Hatred. They were mad with hatred.

Leon couldn’t hurt her, this wasn’t her doing. He needed to help her.

Intending to disarm her and take back the blade, Ashley jumped away. She begun backing up.

“Temperance, child!” Ashley said with a wicked grin.

His knife flew then dug into her throat, the tip of the blade pressing against her skin.

Leon held up his hand, trying to sway whoever was controlling her from doing anything bad. He needed to get closer, this would be tricky. His heart was beating loudly in his chest. Seeing her, unwillingly part of this game, her eyes — that kind glimmer — were gone.

Whoever was controlling her, the plaga, made her back up further.

A metallic squeak and snap, in front of Leon’s face a metal gate fell down. Cutting off the two from each other. Ashley stood on the other side of the bars, still holding the knife with that wild grin. Leon couldn’t do anything.

A heavy sigh came from Ashley, her body slumped over — tired — and the knife collapsed down to the stone steps at her feet.

Leon went closer to the bars, taking a good look at her, she was back.

Her eyes welled up, tears were building up, she looked terrified.

Losing complete control over her body and coming back to see this. Had she seen all of it occur.

This time, Ashley backed away by herself. Staring at her hands in disbelief and horror, a tear fell down her cheek.

Shaking her head, Ashley ran off — out of sight from Leon.

“Wait!” Leon called out, but didn’t hear her steps return. Only listening to them fade away wherever she fled off to.

It was weirdly similar to a feeling that Leon had felt in the past. A different girl, a different time. Slipping through his fingers while trying to help her.

It ended badly that time. It ended badly for everyone. Having to live on with those memories and those who should have been saved. Replaying, it couldn’t happen again. Never again.

Leon pressed his forehead against the bar, taking a deep breath.

“Shit.” Leon exhaled.

He needed to cut off those feeling, just as he had been taught to do. This job was never meant to break him, he needed to be strong. If not for himself or the president, then for her.

The terrified face of Ashley flashed in his mind, she had to have known what she had done. The guilt of doing that to others. Leon felt that same feeling at a time, she didn’t deserve to feel any of that. She’s supposed to be having fun in college, not be stuck in a village filled with cultists.

Guilt and shame swallowed Leon. His chest ached at the remembrance of old wounds of the past. Eating away at the parts of him he still considered human. Leon may not have died that day, but he felt like he had. Mourning that day until all he felt was numb in the end. But he was still human; that remained very much there. He was still the same man as the one from that day, but changed.

His mission was falling apart before his eyes, he needed to get across the gate to go after Ashley.

At that, Leon went onto a call with Hunnigan, departing from the closed path. Half expecting for it to be Luis, hoping that maybe he was behind those gates and found Ashley by herself. But it hadn’t been him, it was someone else.

The courtyard was right there, in his grasp, if Luis was in there he may be able to hold off the cultists. Perhaps, he may even be able to help her while he made his way back over.

Complications rose up from the dirt after Ashley had run away from him. There were sections of the castle that would have been more helpful if she had been around. Funnily enough.

Cultists performing sacrifices and halls cleared of any attackers that wished to cause problems. Crawling up the walls, there were rats crawling over the floors. Squeaking mutely inside the walls that they nested inside of.

Leon only hoped that Ashley was alright in the midst of him getting into bad situations.

One of which felt like a dream.

It was true.

Leon had entered a sort of dining room with a fireplace burning a long spoilt meal in pots.

An open windowed proved to indicate that someone had sneaked their way inside the castle walls, differently than he had.

At the sound of the woman’s voice, Leon knew it immediately. He had almost forgotten the sound of her voice — almost. Now, she sounded changed, but the exact same. That distinct tone, her confidence at each word she spoke.

Ada Wong, in the flesh, pointed her gun at Leon. She got the upper-hand on him, walking around to behind Leon for him to see her.

Leon felt a heat in his chest.

He had heard rumors, suspected and researched, he had listened to his colleagues say that she was alive. Working for who, not one person said the same thing as the next one. But Leon had met her at an unfortunate time, trapped in the middle of it all.

Leon knew that Ada didn’t work for one singular person. She worked for who she chooses.

There was an anger in his chest, but that drowning relief in his chest crawled up his throat. She hadn’t died. One less person dead from that night.

Seeing her now, no scars to be seen, it was as if she had never been there. She must have her own scars that she hid away, same as Leon.

After an altercation, a close-quarters combat, Leon managed to win the fight. He didn’t hurt her though, he would never do that.

As mysterious as she had been when they first met, Ada provided some — cryptic — advice.

To get out of here. Leave Ashley behind and to get out while he still can.

Leon knew something was wrong with what she had said. Ada had shown that she tries to eliminate those who get in her way.

Could she be genuinely concerned.

Leon couldn’t think to hope for that. He couldn’t let his heart be used anymore than it already had been.

Ada left without a sound or a farewell. Just as Leon preferred it to have been.

For now, Ashley was the priority. Leon wouldn’t dwell on his resurfaced feelings that he was forced to bury, he needed to keep going.

Room after room, the bread crumbs that was leading Leon closer to Ashley grew stressful each corner he turned. The cultists were all over.

The map that Leon used to review where he was to go next hardly helped. Marking down which paths were dead ends or locked.

Problems arose out of the depths of hell. Nearing the courtyard, according to the map Leon periodically checked, it was just up ahead…

As pleased that Leon would feel if it had only been so simple, it wasn’t. Standing on higher grounds, overlooking the path that Leon was about to take, El Gigante wore metal armor. It threw cannonballs of fire, hurling one after the other wherever Leon ran to.

It could never be simple.

Involving running out of the range of the flying fireball, Leon had to handle the cultists the same. Dodging out of their way and making his way to the end of this pathway.

In the end, Leon got the upper hand and managed to take it down.

El Gigante attempted to make one last try at Leon, bursting out from underneath the wooden bridge Leon crossed, before it fell down. Presumingly dying.

Leon had been lucky, rolling out of the massive fist of the monster.

Not bothering to check or wait to hear the ‘
splat’
of it’s body hitting the bottom, Leon left.

Catching his breath, it had been quite the exertion to his person. The flames from before had licked the backs of his ankles, there were some close calls.

The distance between the two of them — a yard away from each other — was what made Leon survive. If he were closer, the cultists joining in on the fight, surely Leon would have an increasingly difficult time. El Gigante had attempted to destroy the castle itself, wanting to kill even the cultists if it meant that Leon didn’t make it to Ashley.

Now that it was dead, dropping miles below him to it’s death, Leon could continue on.

At the end of the hall he had fled into, a door stood closed but not locked. Slowly twisting the knob and pushing it open, it revealed that Leon had at last made his way back around into the courtyard. The gate that abruptly cut off Leon from Ashley could be visible as he stood at the fence — overlooking the greenery of the courtyard.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been exactly what he had expected. It partially fit what he had in his mind for a medieval castle’s courtyard, if he were honest. But, the cages and gates strewn across the maze like path gave off a sort of wariness. Alarm bells ringing in Leon’s head.

None of that would matter soon.

A clear path before Leon had been shown to him, there being only one way that he could go. The path forward was to a door. This time, this one had been lock shut from his side.

Sliding open the latch, it was now unlocked.

As soundlessly as he could, Leon entered the room unnoticed. A figure sat on an antique sofa, soft sobs emitted from the ruffled blond hair that shone in the moonlight.

Putting away his pistol, Leon knew exactly who it was — and from the sounds of it — she didn’t need to see him holding a weapon at her. Not that he would, but it would wreck the trust that Leon slowly built up with Ashley. Regardless that she was capable enough to hurt him and herself.

Slowly moving around the sofa, keeping a wide distance, Ashley eventually saw him out of the corner of her eye. The moment she saw that it was Leon, her face morphed into guilt — fear.

Ashley expressed how scared she was about what was happening to her. How she didn’t want to hurt anyone.

The tears that fell down her cheeks made Leon’s chest ache. He had a general idea of what she currently felt. She wasn’t strong enough to hurt Leon, but that didn’t matter. She was capable of making him bleed.

It took time to calm her down. Leon sat down beside her on the sofa, speaking softly. As delicately as he could while simultaneously being honest about what was happening.

As Ashley’s tears fell fewer than the last — in time — she wore a smile.

They would get out of this, together, because nothing would get in the way…

The moment they both stood up from the couch, the other door in the room — presumingly to Leon the one that would lead them to the courtyard — and in came Luis.

The man panted where he stood, out of breath. Haphazardly pushing the door shut, his head hung low on his shoulders.

Ashley walked around the sofa, looking Luis up and down. Leon approached from the opposite side of the sofa, doing the same. Taking in his figure, Luis looked as if he had been sprinting but no visual injuries to be seen. If he hadn’t been hurt, he must have escaped the grasps of something.

A close call that neither of them would hear about.

The only thing that Leon could presume, it had to do with the cultists and their insanity. The courtyard had to have something hidden inside that he burst into the room abruptly.

“What took you so long.” Leon said, ready to reach for his pistol to begin another round of mobs swarming into the room as back in the village.

Leon didn’t forget that Luis had told them both that they would all meet in the courtyard. In Leon’s mind, Luis should have been the first one here. Or better, he should have been here with Ashley.

Though, he would put a tab in that subject. As it were, Ashley was unharmed — away from the clutches of the cult — and they met up just as planned.

There were many questions to be answered, but they would again be put on hold. The matter of the cure that Luis had told them both about would be discussed.

“Sorry amigo, had a little bit of trouble getting here.” Luis’ head rose up from it’s slump, a tired smirk on his lips.

“Right. The cure, do you have it?” Leon asked, walking towards Luis.

Luis held up a hand, gesturing him to calm down.

“Not so fast there, we have a problem.”

Straightening his back, a groan and his left hand went to his back, Luis pulled out a single key and a bottle of pills.

“Oh yeah. And what kind of problem is that, exactly.” Leon felt the stress set in. His vision waned for a brief moment, they needed to get Ashley wherever the cure is.

“Nothing that you, my friend, can’t handle.” Luis held out of bottle of pills out to Ashley.

Walking over, Ashley took the bottle and questioningly stared at Luis. Informing her that they would temporarily slow the growth of the plaga, it would buy them more time.

Ashley swallowed a pill with a strained face. A dry swallow of the pill but it went down. Indicated by her fidgeting tongue in her mouth, it must taste unpleasant.

Next, Luis held up the key on the palm of his hand.

“Now that’s done, we’ll need to get both of you there, to the laboratory.”

Ashley visibly forced herself to calm her breath. She must be relieved that the pill would slow the plaga from spreading, that didn’t take away the future of surgically removing the infection. Leon could tell that she was taking all of this better than he expected. It must have been their talk, or she was stronger than she let herself believe.

It was merely simple steps now. As a group, moving in towards the laboratory where the extraction was would have been the next course of action. To save Ashley, and then Leon.

That would never come in this version of events.

“Alright.” Leon walked towards Luis, ready to go out into the courtyard before asking, “You had trouble getting here?”

Detouring to the sofas that were positioned in front of a large window, peering outside proved to be difficult. The glass had been dirtied with age with no one bothering to clean them thoroughly. Enough could be told, there were no cultists running towards the door and no sight of danger.

Leaning against the sofa briefly, there was a metal click. Nothing enough to warrant concern from the looks of it as Leon backed away. Simply a click of something that was almost triggered, but stopped. The castle was set up with traps from the ceiling over their heads to the tiles under their feet. The sofa was no different it would seem.

The sofa that Ashley had chosen to be sat on had no contraption the same as this one. He would never see this piece of furniture again once they left this room, all they needed was Leon’s go-ahead.

“There were some behind me. I’m sure that I lost their trail, you can never be too sure.” Luis answered Leon’s question.

“And where exactly is this laboratory of yours?” Leon asked, staring at the other. They were losing previous time even speaking right now, but Leon had to calculate if it would be faster to sprint there.

Luis tucked the key in his jacket, brushing off dust that had fallen on the leather.

“Just around the corner. It shouldn’t be too hard to get there with you two.” Luis answered.

Leon looked back out the window. A lot had been left to be figured out on his own, Luis had gone off to who knows where. Regardless, Luis had given them drugs to suppress the plaga. It felt too good to be true. Leon wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, from anyone.

On the other hand, Leon had seen Ada. She was part of this, unexpectedly. Now Luis shows up, doing the opposite of her.

“What have you been doing this whole time apart?” Leon asked, taking a step closer towards Luis. He hadn’t become wary of the man, then again, Leon didn’t forget about Ada. A sliver of doubt remained in his mind, disbelief.

The pleasant unpleasantness of her arrival back into his life had struck a cord. Why would she be here, and telling Leon to get out while he still could. He knew that Ada wasn’t one to work with others, only to use them and toss them aside.

If she
was
using Luis, Leon could warn him.

“Whoa, calm down there. I have other things on my hands than you two.” Luis said.

Leon’s interest had been peaked.

“Oh yeah. And what might that be?” Leon asked again, he needed answers.

The corners of Luis’ lips stretched wider.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, cowboy.” Luis played, Leon could tell that he was purposefully pulling his leg.

“I would.” Leon needed to know if Ada was working on Luis.

He could save him. Ada had once almost gotten Leon killed. Would she do the same to Luis. Leon could protect him.

Luis looked Leon up and down. An expression spread out on his face, it was almost indescribable. A flicker in his eye, a moment before it vanished.

“On second thought,” Leon started, breaking the tension. “You can answer for yourself later. We need to get Ashley to this lab of yours.”

Ashley had stood there and watched their interaction silently. She was nervous, her fingers twitching and a muscle on her throat twitching. Ashley was brave, the pills should be helping her feel less anxious.

“You’re right. For now,” Luis clapped his hands together, turning around to look at Ashley. “The questions can wait. Ladies first.”

Luis gestured Ashley towards the door in a sweeping hand.

Ashley let out a sigh, taking one last glance at Leon before being the first to leave the room.

As the remaining two approached the opened door, Luis paused.

“On second thought, Ashley, do you mind giving us two a minute.” Leon could see out of the door frame, Ashley looked between the two of them.

Confusion, she wanted to ask something but Luis spoke first.

“It will only take a second.” Luis closed the door.

Delicately as he had closed the door, Luis faced the shut doorway for a beat. Turning around, Luis wore that same smirk but something was off. He was hiding something.

“Care to explain yourself, Luis.” Leon suggested.

Luis remained at the door, resting his back against it.

“I just wanted to give my apologies for leaving you chained up before.” Luis was referring to when they had first met, and Luis was lying.

“Yeah, right. Is that it?” Leon gave a hard stare to the other, wanting to get this over with. Being stuck in a room with Luis was awkward to say the least. Each time they were alone together in a room, they were almost killed.

Luis held his hands up and rose his back off of the door. Walking closer to Leon, said man stood his ground. He saw that he was capable with his firearm but Leon was better.

Leon wasn’t scared of Luis, more interested in what he was about to do.

“Come on, you’ve never been told ‘sorry’ to before. Have you?” Luis took slow steps towards Leon. They weren’t fearful or to be taken anything but soothing any suspicions.

As Luis came in closer, he was eliminating the space between them both. Seeing this, Leon blinked as he took one, two, three steps backwards. He didn’t quite know what Luis was playing at, but Leon was not going to let himself fall into a trap.

Luis approached nevertheless, ignoring Leon’s retreat and coming towards the invisible bubble of personal space. There was yet to be a reason for Leon to be suspicious of the man. If there was to be a sudden change in the man’s demeanor or motives, that he too lied as Ada had once, Leon wouldn’t hesitate.

His back connected with the wall of the room, he hadn’t noticed that he backed away this much.

It felt familiar to how Leon had done a similar thing to Luis earlier that night — but with the roles reversed.

Looking over the man, Luis held nothing in his hands and Leon could see his firearm holstered at his hip.

Leon was used to intimidation and mind games; straight backed, the ex-police officer waited to see what Luis would do next.

Remaining against the wall, Leon let Luis walk closer. If not out of confidence, then out of curiosity. Leon had been approached in a similar manner in the military. Shouted and spat in his face, Luis wasn’t the type to be such as those men were.

Instead, Leon waited.

Luis came in stride. Close enough that as he pressed the palm of his hand against Leon’s chest — again similarly to how Leon had manhandled Luis — their faces were inches apart from each other. Silence in the space between them, Luis stared closely in Leon’s eyes.

Back and forth, searching for something.

“Bet you’ve been in spots like this before.” It was the same thing that Luis had said upon their first meeting one another.

Leon remained silent, deciding to do the same searching in Luis’ stare. It was intense, oddly…intimate?

“What? The cat got your tongue?” Luis grinned down at him.

“What’s so important?” Leon asked. Luis had said he wanted to talk, so why wasn’t he.

Luis leaned closer, Leon couldn’t see his other hand moving.

“If it’s not important we’ll discuss it later. For now we-” Leon froze in his tracks.

Whatever words that were about to leave past his lips were stuck to the tip of his tongue. Leon let out a surprised sound as his lips were unable to move. Utter shock and deniable reaction, Leon felt his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The blood in his body heated up, going lightheaded for a moment as the air in his lungs was taken away. He didn’t understand what was happening.

His lips were frozen in place, warmed against Luis’.

Hesitance at what to do, what was Leon
supposed
to do. He had never…not since…

It really was just as it had been with Ada.

This time was — obviously — far more different. Not something that Leon had ever expected to occur on the job, let alone with a man. He hadn’t thought of this, being like that, for a moment. As he hadn’t ever pondered on the concept, Leon wasn’t prepared for how the proper reaction should be.

As Luis’ lips moved against his, softly licking his tongue over his bottom lip, Leon was stiff as a stone. Unmoving and almost refusing to move, Leon let Luis continue what he did. How was he supposed to react. It all came so suddenly.

Leon’s eyes were open as he stared at Luis’ closed one. They looked elegant, gunpowder laying upon the hairs but his face had been rubbed clean with a dry cloth. The sweat that covered his skin made Luis glisten in the limited light.

Upon finally giving in the sudden action from Luis, Leon attempted to speak. Mumbling into the mouth of Luis who swallowed all the words. The gentle slide of his lips as he tried to talk made it feel as though Leon were kissing back.

Putting both of his hands on Luis’ shoulders, giving a firm squeeze to them for warning, Leon didn’t push him away. Thinking that the squeeze would say that he wanted to speak, a piece of him didn’t want it to.

Speaking his name on Luis’ lips, it didn’t feel awful. As a matter of fact, it made Leon stop thinking. He didn’t think about Ashley outside the door or that they were running on borrowed time, all his focus was on the man in front of him and why he chose to do this.

It spurred Luis on as he tried to speak. Backing away to let Leon talk but all that came were the simple words,

“What are you doing?” Leon managed to let out without the press of the other on him.

Leon hadn’t noticed but Luis placed his hand on his hip. Rubbing his thumb over his clothes hip, massaging it through the pants he wore. Occasionally tugging him closer to the other, pressing them together.

Luis’ chest touched Leon’s. The hand on his chest slid up to hold Leon at the back of the head. Threading his fingers in the strands of hair, making the kiss he resumed at that much deeper.

Going on for a minute, Leon hadn’t fought back. Holding onto Luis’ shoulders tight as he reciprocated. Their mouths wet, saliva slipping down to his chin, it was getting hotter in the room.

At the moment they pulled apart, Leon panted lightly. Breathing in Luis’ breath that he exhaled.

Luis’ eyes opened, a twinkle behind that playful gaze. The man before him was more affected than Leon, it appeared, cheeks flushed with a drunk look.

“Did you want an-” Leon, again, tried to ask a question only for it to be interrupted.

It would seem that Luis wasn’t in the mood for questioning.

Delving back in, Luis sloppily pressed their lips together. Meanwhile, the hand on Leon’s hip slid lower. Going down to his knee and holding behind it.

While their lips were locked together, Luis bent slightly over and brought up Leon’s leg simultaneously. In a beat, Luis stood straight back up — this time with Leon’s leg hoisted up in Luis’ arm. Spreading him open causing Leon to stand on one foot. His one leg trapped in Luis’ arm, held up with his strength, he slotted himself closer to him.

A spurring in his gut, it wasn’t foreign. Leon knew this feeling and it was going to get worse if they didn’t stop.

Pulled open, both men groaned in the other’s mouth. It was hot — boiling in his shirt. Sweat rolling down his spine and held leg jerked when Luis made a particular move of his hips. A loud grunt, Leon broke the kiss.

Red burning in his ears at the embarrassment and how pleasurable this felt. Leon didn’t need to think in this circumstance, wiping everything out of his immediate memory. Letting go of the urgency he felt a few minutes ago — before Leon went back into the exchange of kisses.

Luis hummed out as he did the same movement of his hips. They both let out a relieving sigh at the action. Neither would be leaving this room in the condition they both found themselves in. It would be too difficult to explain and would be easier to ‘deal with it’ themselves. Together.

“Are you enjoying yourself too, Leon?” Luis breathily asked.

Staring down at his lips, the way they glistened in the light of the room, it took effort to meet back at his eyes. Leon thought about it. How would he answer. He didn’t want to think too hard on the question, answering honestly was all that came to mind.

“Yes.” Leon answered.

Simple. There was no playing around, Leon knew what he wanted.

Luis’ teeth sparkled like stars, his tongue flicked over them.

“Good to hear.” Luis leaned in for another kiss. Peppering them on Leon who took them in, getting high off of it.

Adjusting the knee in Luis’ arm, it sprained a muscle on Leon’s lower back. A hissing and breaking apart, he felt his muscles tense up at the sudden and abrupt discomfort. The running in the small village — along with the climbing — must not have lubed his joints enough for this.

Leon tried to wiggle his hips to get back to a comfortable position, but that troublesome ache twinged up his spine. Ruining the flow between them both, Leon shut his eyes and breathed slowly. It was as if he had pulled a muscle — overexerted himself — for the sake of being in the mood.

“OK OK, I see that you’re not feeling up to it here.” Luis spoke softly. “Let’s move it somewhere better, shall we?”

Luis let go of Leon’s knee — said man slowly bringing it back down to prevent further agitation.

A hand on Leon’s elbow and a tug, Luis led Leon to the sofas by the window he had previous leaned against. His mind was on other matters, he didn’t like the idea of going to the sofas — never putting on a fight against the pull. Following where they would continue their ‘activities’.

Luis pulled Leon to be ahead of him, forcing Leon to walk backwards to the sofa. In the meantime of trying to focus on where to step next — blindly — Luis smothered him in affectionate pecks. Stealing a few as they walked, hands on Leon’s waist as he walked the other backwards, smothering Leon in overwhelming affection.

Leon’s heart beat out of his chest every second that it went on, he had never experienced this. Not with his once girlfriend from years past or from Ada. This was entirely new, and exciting. Hands caressing his waist and hot to the touch. His shirt being thick but warmth radiated off the touch of Luis’ palms to his fingertips.

Almost tripped, it was easier said than done walking blindly backwards.

Knowing where they would soon be ending up — Leon had no idea. But what he assumed would happen, an anxious excitement rushed in his veins. His head going light, ears tickling at the wet sounds the two made.

The backs of Leon’s knees collided with the sofa.

Grunting in the other’s mouth, Luis hands pushed against him to indicate for him to sit down.

Unthinking, Leon sat down on the sofa — Luis’ mouth following after him. Pushing Leon up and on the cushions to make room for him too. Luis must not have heard it, but Leon had.

That click from earlier. When Leon had knocked into the sofa, it made a metallic click — nothing had happened before. This time, it sounded louder. The feathered cushions underneath him were thin. Leaving no comfortability, like sitting on the ground. There were near no fillings in the sofa. Immediately sinking through and hitting the bottom, the wooden board that held the bottom together.

Yet, even that, didn’t feel similar to wood. Wood had a certain amount of give, this wasn’t entirely that.

Luis’ leg slotting in and making Leon lay totally on the sofa.

There was a louder, heavier click.

Leon thought his body was falling for a moment — a brief second. It ended as his body landed, hard, on something. A button. A trap.

Metal springs were whirring, rusted hinges grind against each other, it was a trap.

Leon’s hands flew up to Luis’ shoulders and shoved him away.

A startled look on Luis’ face, he must have been surprised by this sudden reaction. But Leon worked fast, using both hands to grab the man and throw him off. Tossing him straight down to the floor.

Partially upright off of the cushions, a snap, the springs finally went off.

In the blink of an eye, what could have been a hundred bullets pierced through Leon’s entire body. His upper back up off of the cushions, Leon’s head had been saved — temporarily.

After the scream that he had let out, Leon blinked opened his closed eyes. He didn’t think he had closed them, but he had.

The first thing he saw was Ashley standing at the base of the sofa, horror written over her features. Pale as a blank sheet of paper, her eyes were wide and bulging out of their sockets. She was frozen in place as if she were a painting.

Looking down at himself, Leon saw all the spikes sticking up out of the sofa he currently lay upon.

They had sprung up all over the place. Metal sharpened spikes pierced through his body. Breaking through skin, muscle, bone. Red was flowing out of all the newly made holes the spikes created.

No piece of his body was safe from his eyes.

The spikes remained up, not only making escape impossible, but prolonging the inevitable. He would die sooner or later, there was no getting out of this.

Metal tips were coated in his blood. Ones that had punctured through his torso showed part of his intestines caught to the sharp tip. As seconds passed, gravity pulled apart the pieces of in innards apart. What had been snapped thanks to the spears head, they made their slow descent down the dirtied metal.

Rust had begun eating away the spikes long before their arrival to the castle. Two of the spikes that pierced him weren’t sharp. Partially blunted, but the trajectory of the spring locks made it shoot past tendons and ligaments.

Moving his body upon initial reaction to seeing himself was trouble in and of itself. He felt as though he were a corpse being taxidermied. Pinned in place by needles and forced to stay still. Poles keeping Leon from budging, lest he wanted to experience the torment of feeling the muscles in his body contract around the foreign objects.

Once the first domino fell, there was no stopping it.

Pulling at his pierced arm, three spikes that were inside that single limb caused immeasurable pain. Crying out at the pain, his body naturally reacted. Tugging at his arm went to his body writhing in agony.

In a miracle, or a curse, none of the spikes had went through his spine. No severing of the nerves, he was forced to feel everything.

All at once, every part that had been stabbed through screamed in pain. Nothing could amount to this. The sheer panic at being forced to stay still alone caused Leon to curse in vain.

If they were to find what made the springs go off, there would be nothing more they could do. All three of them would be made to wait until Leon would bleed out. A slow burning torture.

Leon paid no attention to the other two in the room. Hearing their voices screaming — at him or not — and they were quiet in comparison to the wails in his mind. His insides were filled with rusted metal and who knew what else in this castle. The cold bars that his insides clung to froze him fast inside then out.

Constant movement due to the panic made the bleeding worse. No matter that the cut artery in his thigh had been snagged open then plugged, it was ripped apart at the thrashing. Making a wider gash that bled out and down his thigh.

Bleeding out fast, Leon hadn’t noticed at all that he had done this.

The rustling of his body widened the gap of the hole, letting his artery let blood flow out freely.

No one would be able to tell this was happening. The amount of blood already gushing out of him every few heart beats soaked through the sofa. Dripping down and collecting on the floor.

Leon’s eyes were drooping. Blinking them awake, Leon knew he needed to stay awake. Although he would love to not experience this pain, his mind demanded he stay awake. But his body had different ideas.

With the massive blood loss and the extreme trauma done to the body, said body was starting to shut down. It couldn’t take this amount of torture.

As both mind and body fought against each other for control, Leon was stuck in the middle. Thinking of how he would make it out of this one. There were spikes sticking out everywhere, there was no way to rise up off them. He was stuck here.

Vision going blurry, seeing double, Leon’s body was slumping down. His body staying upright during the entire ordeal, in this position too he was stuck. If he fell backwards, his chest would break open before anything else.

But he couldn’t help it. Falling asleep, his eyes staying closed longer after the last hurried blinking back open. He wasn’t conscious of doing this, happening more to him than him doing it himself.

Going black, it felt better than when he had his eyes open. He told himself that he needed to stay awake.

Then his chest screamed as he slumped backwards.

This woke Leon up for a good while, but even that didn’t last long. Repeated, Leon’s eyes closed unintentionally only to be shot back open. By force. It was all blurry. Out of focus. No shapes but colors.

Leon’s breathed calmed, he couldn’t take it.

His mind blaring him to stay awake, Leon got to choose.

Leon wanted to let his eyes remain shut.

Quietly, Leon gave up.

The muscles in his body gave out and Leon slumped the rest of the way backwards.

On the way down, the audible crack and wet snapping of bone sounded as the metal bars stood strong in opening up the man’s chest. The position of the bars in the upright spot Leon had been in was where his body
should
have remained. That was the position that he chose and needed to stick to.

Metal didn’t care about the body of the man that let gravity tear him apart.

Heavy as he was with muscle, Leon collapsed all the way to the cushions of the sofa.

Leon felt each of the new spikes pierce into him, but he let himself stay asleep.

Puncturing his upper chest, snagging the side of his throat — and finally — a rust colored spear dug into the back of his skull. Sinking lower, lower, until gravity had done all it could do. The tip poking out of Leon’s face with an inch to show to the two traumatized individuals that were trapped in the castle.

Luis had no idea that the sofa was trapped, he really hadn’t.

Leon had failed his mission, saving the presidents daughter.

Ashley was inconsolable as she sobbed over his disfigured corpse. She hadn’t seen anything that went down between him and Luis.

Luis wouldn’t say a thing, in shock by what he just witnessed. His body was numb, he couldn’t believe what he saw before him. Luis had been the one to start all of this. Bringing him over to the sofa, how could he be so ignorant. And not to mention, Leon had saved him from that fate.

Whatever came next once the two of them left this room, they would be forced to leave Leon behind.

Would Krauser not shoot Luis. Would Ashley make it to the laboratory with Luis to extract the plaga.

None of this was supposed to happen, not in this way.

Though Ashley and Luis had each other from there on out, they both felt utterly alone. In their own rights, both of them felt helpless at the thought they would be alone after this.

What is known was after the newly made pair departed the room to continue on with their journey, Ada found the corpse of her once ‘companion’. She had warned him to get out, sighed in disappointment at the lack of care he had found himself in. Ada had a soft spot for the rookie cop, she would see through this mission herself — in her own way.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Traveling the world is something most strive to do. Across the country or across the oceans. There is much to see out in the real world besides being locked being a desk at a 9-5 job or driving to purchase more groceries. People to be met, food to be tasted, experiences to be had. A privilege given to go through, few are able to get the chance.Chris has visited quite a bit of places, not for vacation purposes. Not only that, he hardly had any time to appreciate any of the places he needed to ‘visit’ for work.After years of the Raccoon City incident, Chris and Jill were in search for Umbrella. Finding all their locations and trying to shut them down. As they were after a pharmaceutical company, one that had much power over many, they were tried their hardest.Searching for dirt on them in order to provide the obtained information to the proper sources to shut them down was easier said than done. Traveling Europe, Chris and Jill ventured to many countries without rest. They ate but only the fast-food places they had in America. They had the privilege to experience the air and the roads, and the cliff sides.Jill and Chris had received intel that they would get their answers from Oswald E Spencer. The man who was part of the creation, and owner, of the Spencer Manor. The same, one and only, manor that set off the domino effect that lead them to this.Both, together, had entered the estate in search of Oswald. What they found was the man’s corpse and Albert Wesker staring back at them, hiding his expression behind those familiar shaded glasses. Chris and Jill hadn’t expected to see their old captain there that night, and neither did Wesker.Unfortunately, the night ended gravely with Chris watching his partner save his life. She tackled Wesker out the window beside them. Chris had messed up. Jill shouldn’t have done it, regardless of it being the right thing, because now she was presumed dead.Her funeral was quiet, Chris staying last.They never found Jill’s body — or Wesker’s at that. They fell down into a mass body of water, they could be anywhere. The likely hood of Jill surviving the fall being extremely low as it had been explained to him.Chris believed the friends who consoled him and the professionals who informed him on the probability of surviving the fall.As Chris saw with his own eyes that Jill was possibly still alive, his hopes skyrocketed. On his mission in Kijuju, Sheva — his newest partner — right beside him saw the immediate change in his demeanor. She had never met Jill, of course, but Sheva wouldn’t leave Chris’ side.It wasn’t much, there being no concrete proof that she was alive at that very minute, Chris made it his mission to find her. Dead or alive, Chris would find her.When the time came that their mission was dissolved, Sheva had been given the option to depart. Go their separate ways without any guilt on either persons fault.Chris would follow through this mission no matter what anyone told him to do. Screw the superiors, Jill was the one person he would go out of his way to save.Being through so much together, beside each other through each hurdle — all the way back to Raccoon City — he would do anything for her. She was his partner, he is hers.Sheva had made her choice. She could have escaped without any sort of problem. Gone away to live a new life in a new city nearby or far away. Followed new commands and stayed away from Chris and what would later meet them later that night. One thing would set off these altered events from what should have happened, one choice that Chris will never forget until the day he dies.Traveling over the waters and traversing around murderous Ndipaya, there was no way to avoid them. The two of them came across them while fleeing out of the city to go after Ricardo Irving.Chris had read the files from Leon Kennedy from his mission in Spain rescuing the president’s daughter.The Los Iluminados cult that infected the villagers that resided nearby their operations. The description from that file read similar to how the Ndipaya acted around Sheva and himself. Red, bleeding eyes that held a similarly described hatred behind them. Their skin covered in broken capillaries, all over their body with the blued veins scattering over their limbs. The violence, the mindless but collective formation of their attacks.These people, they were infected with something similar to that report. The ‘Plaga’ that had been described had been destroyed in totality. This — what had been given to the Ndipaya — had to be an offshoot or a subspecies of the same virus, Chris believed.Whoever gave the people this virus, infection, they were testing it on the locals who lived outside of the city. Close enough for them to leak the infection into Kijuju, setting off everything.As Leon had described in his report, they acted similarly to the undead from the Raccoon City incident. They were, with high possibility, being influenced to make attacks.What would he be if not for Jill being there with him through the hard times. Having each other’s back no matter what. She saved him more than he would like to admit.If she were dead out here, Chris would deliver revenge on those who caused her harm.Going after Ricardo, there were close chances for them to snatch him up. Unfortunately for the two of them, Ricardo managed to slip out of their fingers each time. The man had amazing luck and good friends that kept him safe and alive.A concealed face of a mystery assailant made sure of this. Taking Ricardo out of their path, whisking him off out of harms way.At the speed in which this person moved, it was faster than Chris himself.Sheva had pointed it out first, it was a woman.The masked individual was a woman, wearing heels as she sprinted over the dirt of the earth. Chris had not been able to get a good look at her, but underneath her mask he saw the corner of her mouth. The mask could be knocked off if he aimed for it next time upon their encounter.Chasing Ricardo through the oil field, Chris and Sheva encountered more of the infected crawling around. The stench of oil and sweaty bodies sprinting towards them, distracting them.At the docks, fighting past the infected trying to kill them, both Sheva and Chris saw Ricardo on a ship of his own. No longer docked, the ship already begun sailing away down the river. Just off from said boat, Chris saw a much smaller boat sailing away — driven by the masked woman who kept protecting their target.She sailed away, leaving behind the slow moving one Ricardo walked on.Upon seeing them both at the end of the dock, Ricardo found something amusing.Announcing a vague notion of their soon-to-be deaths, Chris and Sheva caught on that they were planning to blow us the oil field. The odor that they ran through wasn’t just because they were sprinting past the factory, they had been planning this from the beginning. To blow up that much oil, they both needed to get off of the land before they would be killed by the explosion it would soon cause.With the help of Josh Stone and the boat he was able to obtain on the other side of the dock, Chris and Sheva made their escape. Chasing beside the boat that Ricardo was on — the man being under the impression that the two died in the explosion that went off — the pair boarded without problem.Making their entrance, Ricardo was not pleased to see them alive. Upset enough of the lack of exit planning that he injected himself with a mysterious liquid. After mere seconds, his body cracked and popped out of place. Joints breaking apart, skin tearing way as what grew inside him spread out from the folds of flesh.The man gave poor information before he gave himself over to the change. Morphing into something gruesome and deformed. He fell into the water.What Chris and Sheva hadn’t expected was that he didn’t drown. Instead, Ricardo had become a monstrous sea creature. Swimming beside his own ship and trying to kill Chris and Sheva.Thanks to the boats warfare bolted to the ship, both Sheva and Chris were well equipped to take down his transformed self. Shooting him down before he could take the metal off the sides.Ricardo had been defeated, his body melting and convulsing on the boats deck. Leaving his body behind, cleanup would deal with his remains.Their main target now exterminated, their new mission was to move forward in searching for Jill Valentine. They knew where they needed to go next, they would go and search the area for information.Traveling with Josh again, Chris and Sheva were brought down to the cave that Ricardo had mentioned before his death. The man gave poor information on what the Uroboros Project was, but he gave them a direction to find out.Docking the small boat, the pair left without Josh.What the woman had used to get away had too been docked. The key nowhere to be found, she may come back.Swiftly dodging and maneuvering around them both without getting into any fighting, she was highly trained. A true asset to this Uroboros Project, she hadn’t even shown how well she can be in fighting but he can tell.Traveling through the underground pathway, they both found themselves in ancient ruins.Puzzles and more of the Ndipaya walked about. Once Chris and Sheva were both caught for being inside the ruins, more fighting commenced.Narrow pathways that had inventions of the sun’s blazing light blasting down them, leaving a line of flames behind it.Going deeper down in the ruins, they came across more and more puzzles that needed to be solved for them to move forward. Moving statues in order to make the light activate their journey onward. Platforms sinking down, deeper into the ruins.Reaching the point that they had to be, at least, a mile underground. The air was humid and dry. Cramped walls that were carved into these massive rooms, what could possibly be down here.As they reached the bottom, there was a shift in the air. Something was different. Chris felt it in his bones. It was difficult to explain, to put his finger on what tickled up his spine. He hadn’t felt this feeling in years. The last time he felt it was in Raccoon City. Finding the name for it, Chris steadied himself. It was dread.Entering into this new room, it was bright as the sun outside.Inside, there was life. Greenery of bushes, grass, flowers. Blooming with red petals and thriving from the looks of it. Life was able to be sustained.“How can these survive underground?” Sheva asked.Standing before the blazing petals, a sense of danger lurked behind their faces.The multi-colors to each petal was lively. An ombre of colors. The base of a petal being red, forming into a deep orange, to a yellowed tip. Fire. They resembled flames.Chris knew not to touch them, no matter how beautifully deadly they were.“These are no ordinary flowers…” Chris answered back.There had to be dozens, hundreds, of these flowers all over. Breaking through stones, sprouting out viciously to breathe in the hot air of the cave. This climate, it thrived in it.Curious, it all being incredibly confusing for Chris. This was what they were searching for…?Taking a once over of the room, seeing how much of the flowers spread out towards the walls of the cave, Chris only then noticed it.“Wait!” Chris moved around Sheva to run towards a crate he saw deeply earthed into the ground.Sprinting over with Sheva behind him, Chris knelt down to clean up the surface of the crate.Underneath the grime and dirt that piled on, years of debris coating the logo he knew too well. It was Umbrella. That white and red pattern, it was no other.“Umbrella…?” Chris couldn’t understand it. Umbrella wasn’t supposed to be down here in Africa. They were destroyed, dismantled.“What?” Sheva asked. She knew it wasn’t good, she didn’t know the exact things Chris had gone through with this company. “What was Umbrella doing here?”Sheva looked around until it stopped on one thing. Chris looked over too to see what she had seen.“I don’t know.” Chris stood up. “But it doesn’t look like anyone’s been around for a while.”It doesn’t look empty in here, but the dust settled on all the equipment indicated that it was abandoned some time ago.“You can be sure they wanted to keep this place a secret.” Sheva said, and she was right. Neither her nor Chris knew of this operation happening this near to a city. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last.Jill, she had to have been here. Somewhere deeper down, through the doors that were at the other end of the room. If Jill was here, seeing her behind that glass container, Umbrella’s logo trapped down here. Something was very wrong.“Some of this equipment’s got the Tricell logo on it.” Chris stared at one of the tents. “Were they working together?”They had to have been, Chris believed. Did they have a rebrand, a new company swooping in to steal the work of Umbrella, or worse.With that, they both left this room behind.Whatever was happening down here, they would seek it out. For the time being, they needed to find Jill. Chris couldn’t bear to think that he had actually believed that she was dead this entire time. Left her behind while she was used for experiments or held captive for this long.They suffered with the same night terrors, Jill never let him feel alone in that regard. Now, he had left her behind.Would it have been better if she had actually died from that fall or learn that she had been tortured the entire time she’s been gone. Either way, Chris did nothing but mourn for his partner.Sheva was a good partner, she wasn’t Jill. Sheva had patience that nobody would ever grant to Chris, except for Jill. Sheva listened to Chris’ wild theories of his ‘dead’ partner being alive, Jill would have done the same.Chris couldn’t help it no matter how he tried, everyone he’s ever been paired together with, none could compare to her. She was like his little sister. Their bond was unbreakable. He would save her.Entering into the next rooms, the atmosphere drastically changed. From the ancient ruins they traveled through turned into a medically facility.Documents were everywhere talking of Umbrella and Tricell. They were doing research down here of the flower. One of the rooms they passed by had liquid filled containers with the flowers behind the glass. Hooked up to machines, wires going in all sorts of directions, they were doing more than growing a greenhouse underground.Chris had enough knowledge to suspect that these flowers had something to do with the bioweapon. They were pretty inside the light, but they wouldn’t be a gift he would give for mother’s day.Down the halls they passed, pools of blood became more frequent. Splatters of it on the floor, dripping off of the ceiling. There were no dead bodies.Eventually they found the piles of them behind a locked room. Disfigured and piled on top of each other. It was good — Chris noted to himself — that they weren’t undead. Whoever these bodies were, they had no identification and would remain down here, likely for a long time.A guess or two of who they were, scientists, Chris and Sheva passed by cages of detained animals. Opossums to goats, left to eventually die. Wildlife that no one would miss.Chris had been the one to walk into the Lickers that were — apparently — crawling around the facility. Sheva had been the only to start shooting at them without knowing these things were blind. It was an accident that Chris came across them, now they were fighting back.Two of them were put down with buckets of ammunition inside them.Yet another room covered from ceiling to floor in blood was what they met down that hall. The Lickers must have finished their meal.The two fled down the halls, looking to get off of this floor. An elevator sat but not ready to be used.Clicking the button to go up, they both needed to wait before it arrived. In the meantime, more Lickers came out.Though, they survived it.Going up, both eventually made their way to a massive room filled with bodies in containers. Medically clean and white all around. The words hospital and research screamed while doing circles, staring at each pod. Held up to the walls, they were too far away to tell what their faces looked like. Chris noted that this room looked exactly like the photo of Jill.A computer in the center of the round platform, Chris entered Jill’s name onto the keyboard. She was here. The platform begun to move to go towards her pod.A major enemy appeared before them but it was no match for Sheva and Chris.Upon it’s death, the platform resumed. Arriving, Jill’s pod came towards the anxious pair.It was empty.Jill wasn’t here.A woman known as Excella announced herself over the computer’s monitor. Showing her face and mocking them both without saying anything.Brief as their conversation was, Excella was no fool. Sheva said that she knew that Excella was lying, hiding something.Jill, Chris needed to find her.Running down the hallways, looking for this Excella, she must know something. Sheva informed him that she is the face of Tricell, Jill had been inside the Tricell pod. Excella had to know something. The feed came from nearby, they simply needed to locate her.Outside of the room another change of environment happened. Now, for the first time since Chris had been here, bullets were being fired back at them. This didn’t stop them from making their way forward, to the dismay of their newly made ‘friend’.The partners found themselves locked in a room with one man and multiple tanks with organisms inside. The man was sat down, neither had ever seen him before. Then Excella announced herself over an intercom.Up above where the man sat, Excella stood there with a wide smile. Another stood beside her, the woman who wore the mask each time they came across her. She was here still. Going from helping Ricardo to this Excella.What happened after their brief chat turned out to be yet another fight. This time, with the Uroboros that has been talked about so much.The fight was stressful to say the least. Nothing made the creature weaker, except for the flamethrowing on the wall.Just as the others they came across thus far, it had been exterminated. If the ‘whole world’ would soon learn of this, as Excella had put it, no one would stand a chance with this creation. It would destroy the world.Where could Jill be. This and only this kept repeating in the mind of Chris Redfield. The entire planet will be wiped out from this virus, but Chris worried for his friend first.Excella couldn’t have gone far. They needed to catch up to her in order to gain more information. She knew more than the documents found scattered about.Chris lead the way forward, running past the gunmen that attempted to mow them down, they didn’t have the time. Chris didn’t have the time.Running past each enemy that tried to slow them both down was easy. None followed after them once the doors to the next room closed. Nothing they did swayed the determination to track down Jill.Across a bridge they needed to pull down by a lever, a Tricell logo ingrained on the door was the best sign they needed. They were on the right track, they were close.Past the door, Excella stood with her back to Chris and Sheva. No matter that they both held their guns pointed at her, the confidence that oozed off of her irritated Chris’ skin. Clapping her hands, calm as could be, Excella wasn’t affected by the threat to fire.The woman in the mask landed right before Chris and Sheva. Quiet as a mouse, he hadn’t heard any sort of approach behind him.Sheva fought back at the masked woman. Chris tried to join in to give aid, but the woman kicked at Chris. Fast as a bullet, neither got a hit being that close to her.Backing away, Chris pointed his gun at the mask of the assailant. She being distracted by Sheva, who by his means, kept up with her countered attacks. Pointing his gun, he needed to be sure not to shoot Sheva. Close combat was tricky, but Chris kept his cool.There was a slip up, unfortunately.Chris had been about to adjust where he would hit on her mask, but he decided in a split second to move his weapon to the left. It was only a hair to the left, but it was enough.The firing of the bullet sounded and it hit the masked woman. Another sound pierced the air. Glass breaking, shattering and hitting the dirt floor. A rapid dripping on said floor, too fast.The masked woman froze. Her shoulders slackened and her hands dropped away from Sheva. Her legs giving out, collapsing. The masked woman fell backwards and fell hard on the ground. The impact being hard enough to dislodge the mask to now partially lay over her face.Sheva panted, catching her breath after her needing to keep up with the now deceased woman. Sprawled out on the floor, Chris hurried over to make sure she was dead.Feeling her neck for a pulse, it was gone.Out of curiosity, Chris tossed off the mask. Ready to see another one of their failed comrades face. To see…It was Jill.The bullet wound underneath her eye showed the precise hit that dug into her face. The eye hole of the mask she wore had the only window of opportunity for a bullet to break through.Chris’ vision swayed as if drunk. His body ran cold and dread wracked over his body. Spreading out from his head down his body. Running through his fingers that held her cheek in disbelief. Her eyes were open, but no light remained behind them. It had been instant.No suffering for Jill Valentine any longer.It had to be fake. A look alike. A clone. Chris and Sheva had passed by those tanks with bodies, were they clones. They had to be.A dream. It had to be a dream. He couldn’t have done this.Take it back. He needed to take it back. It was a mistake.Undo it. Reset it. Go back. Try again. Do it over again. Anything, nothing was changing.Hands holding onto the sides of her head, Chris called out her name. Repeating her name, yelling, shouting it. It was a mistake. He didn’t know. How could he have known.His partner, Jill. She had been there during the nights of terror filled dreams. Consoling each other with the fact that they knew what the other was feeling. They were the only two people who could keep each other sane in a maddening world.Bile climbed up his throat, he could throw up. Instead he screamed.Her empty eyes stared past him.Jill.Chris couldn’t help it. He had never thought he would see her again. He was blessed to see her alive, if unknowingly. What was she doing here. Why was she working with Excella.His brain was electrified. Nothing made a sound around him or felt the comforting hand on his back.Lifting her up into his arms, she was like a doll. Her head rolled back, arms heavy on the ground. She was just another body now wearing the face of his friend.He had seen her face sleeping peacefully. Right in that moment, she looked like someone else. He had never seen this expression before because she had never been dead, hauntingly staring out of focus.Her skin was pale, tired. The fire behind her eyes had faded. There hadn’t been a light behind them in a long time. The blood from the bullet wound on her face dripped over her pale flesh. Tainting it. Painting over the face that he had wanted to see alive. Happy.Chris had been snapped out of his mental state. Looking over to see what had woken him from his shock. At the top of the stairs that Excella stood below, was Albert Wesker.He was alive. They had both survived.How…?A waking nightmare as he stared at the man who should be in Jill’s place. Dead by his own bullet.As Chris thought that, the realization ‘I killed Jill’ repeated in his head. It would never cease it’s echo.Watching Wesker finish his clapping, the old captain of S.T.A.R.S. walked down the flight of stairs.“Well done, Chris.” Wesker said sarcastically. “Taking out my prized success. This really is unlike you.”Chris wanted to reach for his weapon, but too stunned. He couldn’t let go of Jill. It was her warmth.“We last met at the Spencer Estate, wasn’t it?” Wesker asked.As Chris didn’t answer, Wesker chose to speak in his place.“Well, isn’t this one big family reunion.” Wesker said.Excella too watched the decent of the man. She was smiling with…endearment?“I would expect you to be happier to see us.” Wesker spoke. “But here you two are.”Waving his hand at Chris, knelt on the floor.“Fuck you, Wesker.” Chris said, Jill remaining in his arms.Sheva gasped at hearing the name, she didn’t know who he was. Now she does.“Such profanity.” Wesker said. “Now let’s finish this once and for all.”Excella had been watching, standing beside Wesker.Wesker adjusted his gloves, preparing for a fight.Chris didn’t forget the last encounter they had together. Whatever Wesker was now, he was as fast a bullet. He would take Sheva out in a second.Forcing himself to let Jill down onto the ground, his arms covered in her blood, Chris stood up.Excella had been backing away towards the exit of the room. Chris couldn’t let her get away. She was dangerous with the amount of knowledge that she had.Hesitation flashed over Wesker’s face. Remembering something perhaps or needing to do more important things than this, but needed an exit.“On second thought.” Wesker turned around to stare at Excella.She paused, her smile faltering. Staring back at Wesker, she didn’t know what he had planned any more than Chris and Sheva.“I think I still have some use of you.” Wesker, in the blink of an eye, appeared right in front of Excella.An audible gasp, out of sight, Chris couldn’t see what he was doing to her.His arm reached up and something happened out of sight. A shrill scream had been let out by Excella.Wesker disappeared letting Chris and Sheva see Excella.Fear. It was written all over her face. Her hand had been in the motion of slapping one’s face if they were in front of her. Her other hand held on her neck. Excella had tried to slap Wesker but he ran away. What had he done.Excella asked the same thing to Wesker.“What did you do?” Excella whined in pain.Stumbling in her heels, Excella looked to be in pain.“Why, Wesker.” Excella pleaded, her voice strained.No reply came to her. One came for Chris’ question addled mind.“Because I need a few pair of hands.” Wesker’s voice came to Chris’ left.Whirling around, Chris fired three bullets to the slow approaching Wesker. In blips, Wesker dodged them like nothing he had ever witnessed before. His cool expression and mean demeanor making his slow walk towards Chris.His eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses he always worse. Chris knew. Wesker had his eyes set on him.“Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you.” Wesker announced.With Wesker being as fast as time and Excella crying out in pain, Chris nor Sheva were prepared for this fight.So they ran away. In the room they were in, they both ran out of the path of Wesker. Dodging his attacks and refusing to fire their weapons at him after repeated missed hits. It would drain their ammunition fast if they went on trying to get a hit.Chris didn’t know what he had done to Excella, she was doing no harm to them. No gun, no martial arts training, she fell down to her knees and moaned in agony.All around the rooms he ran down, hearing both Wesker’s mocking phrases and Excella’s cries for mercy, Chris and Sheva hid. Why? They needed a plan.Wesker hadn’t been part of Chris’ equation in this Tricell business, or this entire dissolved mission. He shouldn’t be surprised. That no longer matter. What mattered now was that they needed to figure out how to take him out.Jill. Her face flashing in his mind.Chris thought that Jill had killed them both. That fall should have ended them at impact. Questions for this would never be answered.After the seven minutes that Wesker had promised, neither of the pair had managed to come up with a solid plan of attack. It had been a game of cat and mouse.Announcing their time was up, Excella let out an ear-piercing scream.Running out from their hiding spot, they couldn’t fight Wesker, they also couldn’t let him leave.Back in the main room, Wesker started to leave the room easily. Pulling out his phone, Wesker spoke to someone on the other end.Walking around Excella’s crumbling form on the floor.“Keep them company, will you?” Wesker spoke to her over his shoulder.His eyes landed on Chris, a scowl appearing on his features.“No more time for games, Chris. I’ve got work to do.” Wesker left inside of the elevator.Chris ran towards the door, it closed before he could make it in time.Pressing on the button to go up, it would take a while for it to return to their level.Crackling and snapping behind Chris drew his attention back. Excella’s body, under her skin, a snake slithering under her skin pressing against it. Crawling out from around her bones, Excella’s body was breaking.Uroboros. It was the same thing that happened earlier with the man from that room. It had rejected him. It is rejecting Excella.Black tentacles sprouted out of her mouth. Reaching high up to the ceiling, crawling along the surface. Shooting at the black tentacles, it did nothing. They would need extremely high temperatures to take down this thing. They had only their firearms.The elevator door pinged and the sound of the doors opened let them know they can escape.Sheva grabbed onto Chris, pulling him backwards to get into the elevator.“We can’t take it down! We need to get out of here.” Sheva shouted.Chris agreed, they needed to go.Inside the small box, they fired their weapons at the approaching tentacles. They were inching their way closer, ready to swipe at them.Past Excella’s body that knelt dead on the floor, Jill’s body stayed behind across the room. Chris could see one of the tentacles wrap around her arm, tugging it towards the body of the Uroboros. It was going to consume her.“No!” Chris shouted out.Sheva needed to hold him back before the doors closed firmly shut. Telling him that it was too late, they couldn’t stay much longer.Behind the rising elevator, Chris imagined how her body was being eaten. She wouldn’t have been dead if he wasn’t there to ruin it. A lung collected in his throat, he wanted to throw up. Sick to his stomach, his heart went through the same mourning as he had at her funeral. Added with the image of her blank expression staring past him, he could could kill Wesker.She hadn’t been herself, he had to have done something to her…Chris couldn’t go to retrieve her body now for a proper funeral.It was true.Yet, seeing the last of Jill being dragged towards the Uroboros’ growing body, it sent him into a spiral. Before he could see it digest her body, that was his mercy.Chris’ fists pounded on the elevator doors. Punching hard at the metal until his knuckles would be bruised.Sheva was there. Holding onto his back, she gave her condolences for her death. That anyone would have made that same mistake.Chris listened to a certain extent. He couldn’t take it. What gave way was the thoughts of Jill being stuck here. She had to have been brainwashed. That would mean torture. She died being someone she wasn’t.At the very least, her pain was over. Killing her instantly, it helped not with Chris’ busy mind.Everything had been zoned out. Chris went onto autopilot, disconnecting from everything around him. Following behind Sheva and blindly walking towards where Wesker had disappeared off to.Bits and pieces slipped in into what he was doing. He had managed to make it onto a ship with Sheva looking after him.Jill. She should be here, his partner. He couldn’t help it.Breathing heavily, there was little that slipped into his clouded mind.He couldn’t think clearly, see clearly. It was all automatic. The image of Jill in his arms, her blank eyes staring off into nothing, didn’t wash away. Ingrained in his eyes, he could only see her dead body every time.Staring down at the dead bodies they both created, each resembled Jill too much.Down below deck, there were more laboratories. Tests and those damned flowers.Had Jill seen those flowers. She wasn’t much of a fan of flowers, but she could appreciate them — he believed. If she had been stuck down there, did she have a moments peace to take in the beauty those petals held.Deeper down into the ship they traveled. Chris could barely talk or answer any of Sheva’s questions. She refused to leave his side for too long. Taking the initiative, Sheva lead the path down. She stopped trying to speak with Chris after some time. Giving him space to let the waves settle.Past a pair of Tricell logo doors, the two continued on.It had been an hour that Chris had been stuck in his thoughts while his body went on without him. In front of him, at the end of the hallway, Chris saw him.Wesker.His back to them both, he was looking over at an aircraft. The room was for housing it and containers stacked all around.It had been enough for Chris’ rage to resurface. The anger boiling up in his heart, Wesker had started all of this.“Your plans are finished, Wesker!” Chris shouted at the man.“There’s no way out this time!” Sheva pointed her gun at the back of Wesker, matching Chris’ aggression.Wesker let out a deep sigh, clearly irritated that their existence behind him displeased him.“Don’t you two ever tire of failing in your mission?” Wesker spoke. “You’ve really become quite an inconvenience for me.”Once the words were said, their last fight commenced.Wesker, as fast as light, rushed towards them both after distracting Chris by throwing him his glasses.Chris could have sworn that in a flash, he caught a glimpse at the man’s eyes. They were red, irises pointed as a cat — glowing. Wesker had already taken the Uroboros.It must have accepted him. Without Jill being there, Chris wouldn’t find out why this was. As far as he knew, Wesker has full control over the virus. The speed, it would account for that. What else could he do.Replacing the glasses on his face, those glowing red eyes were again concealed.Using Sheva as a human shield, Wesker kept her trapped in his hold.“Why are you doing this?” Chris asked, pointing his gun at his ex-captain. Chris didn’t know why he wanted all of, this. The power, the control, the fear in other people’s eyes. “What do you accomplish by unleashing Uroboros?”Chris was good, he wasn’t initially made to do evil. He couldn’t understand the purpose for all this work.“Every day humans come one step closer to self destruction.” Wesker answered Chris’ question, Sheva struggling under his strength. “I’m not destroying the world, I’m saving it!”A mad man. Chris saw it, he had lost his mind. Everything he had done this far, it was pure evil.Sheva managed to get herself out of the lock he had her in. Chris fired bullets at Wesker, making sure to aim high to avoid killing another partner of his.They were no match for Wesker.Wesker threw them both over the safety rails, dropping them down off the catwalk.“This guy’s lost it!” Sheva said, getting the same impression from the man’s speech.Chris hadn’t been paying attention earlier, did they have a plan down here. Were they here to die. They didn’t have any weakness to target on him. Too fast for close combat — as they just learned — and faster than a bullet.They needed a plan, quick.Wesker didn’t rush towards them, choosing the slow approach.Chris and Sheva ran away, searching for anything that could help them in their fight.There were switches on their level. Going by and pulling the lever, the lights over their heads went out.“Perfect!” Sheva said. “Let’s use this to our advantage.”Pulling all the overhead lights that they came by, the room in time became dark. The red lights of the landing platform for the aircraft being the only source of light. The problem being, Chris had trouble too with seeing.Sheva had found a rocket launcher behind a glass case.Taking possession of it, they would try to blow up Wesker with it.They could hear his footsteps, him wearing entirely black made him camouflage in the dark.Standing beside Sheva, she pulled the trigger for the launcher.Unfortunately, the light illuminated that Wesker had caught it in his hands.“Quick! Shoot at the rocket!” Sheva shouted.Pointing his handgun at the illuminated Wesker, Chris fired at it.A massive explosion had been set off thanks to their teamwork. Wesker stood still as Chris ran up to him to attack.Firing bullets as he had been stunned, some landed but — all of a sudden — he disappeared. He had gotten away from Chris. He could be anywhere.Before Wesker would find them, Chris ran away.“Keep the rocket launcher! I’ll go find some more.” Chris called out to Sheva. If there was a rocket launcher, there would be more here to reload it.Chris searched for another rocket launcher or their refills. The darkness didn’t help in navigating around corners or looking inside crates. The dim lights of red flashed every few seconds.To his luck, there were reloads for the rocket launcher that Sheva had. There were more than a few at that. It would be enough, Chris hoped.This was where his luck would end.Springing into action, Chris went out to search for Sheva. Calling out to her every few seconds as he navigated in the dark. Sprinting straight, trying to find a set of footsteps so he could go meet her. Chris heard only the repetitive beeps of the consoles around him, the flashing red lights giving poor indication of where to go.Calling out her name more, listening out for her footsteps, there was little to go on. Chris had a feeling to turn at the pillars, she hadn’t responded yet. If she had, Chris didn’t hear her. Sheva had the rocket launcher, where could she be.Not only with the lack of Sheva’s presence, Wesker too wasn’t around. It being difficult to hear the man when he wanted to be, his location was a mystery.A gut feeling told Chris that something was off. Something went wrong with Sheva and mortal danger lurked over his head.Tension in the air stuck to his skin, pressing against the nerves on his temples. Cold sweat collected on his back, chills spreading up his neck. Tickling of the hair on his arms. An overwhelming shift in his surroundings, the change palpable.Chris had felt this before.Carefully placing the rocket down on the floor near a wall, Chris pulled out his handgun.Calling out for Sheva one more time, no response came. Not a sound but the whirls of the fans overhead. The heat of the room remained although the filtered air tried to cool the dangerous packages inside.Walking softly, Chris did sweeps around each new turn. Wondering if he should turn back on the overhead lights, neither could see the other in this state. It would be best to remain like this, Wesker had the upper hand in the light. If something happened to Sheva in the dark, Chris needed to stealth his way to her.Sweeping his gun around, his eyes adjusted slowly to the new lighting — or more the lack thereof. Chris could see the grooves on the pillars around him. Wires threaded upwards to supply power above and below. Panels on the ground to go below the floor, more mechanical wiring Chris knew nothing about.A scrape of someone’s shoe came behind Chris’ back.Spinning around, ready to fire a barrage of bullets, it was dark.Chris had come from that direction, he at first thought he saw something amiss. Something that hadn’t been there or he hadn’t noticed being there.While in the dark, staring at it long enough, trying to figure out what he was looking at. It was formless but that was because it too was black. The red flashes around the room showed that it was something, still like a tree. The next thing that triggered an alarm in his mind were the red lights. They flashed but why didn’t those match the pattern of the blinking. Solid and mildly glowing in the light.The image started to form, edges and outlines sewn together. The boxy lower half giving way to legs inside of them. The white odd shape on the top molded into hair.Chris saw who it was, Wesker.Wesker was staring at him, his eyes barely noticeable in the darkness if it weren’t for how red they were. They were on him and only him.Pulling the trigger, Chris let out three shots. The flash from the gun blinded Chris. Taking away some of his ability to see in the dark.There came a groan but nothing added.A blow to Chris’ elbow knocked his aim off course. Shuffling away, Chris pointed his gun at the face of Wesker’s blood splattered face. The flash the gun let off revealed that the splashes of blood had no exit wound. It wasn’t Wesker’s blood.Although Chris had been pointing and fired his weapon, the man dodged away. The last thing that Chris saw was Wesker’s fist shooting towards his eye.It was all black.For the undetermined amount of time that Chris had been out, he finally woke up.Eyes closed, exhaustion weighed heavy on top of his body. He could barely move.Chris moved his fingers, trying to feel what he was laying on. It didn’t feel like blankets. He knew he lay on something, it was strong. His fingers didn’t touch anything. Wiggling them around, it was almost as if they were in midair. Resistance being nonexistent. Where was he.Stretching his body around, he woke without any energy. Heaviness rested on every inch of him, but he could move.There did come resistance while Chris attempted to lay on his side. Getting the impression that he had been stuck in the same position for a long time. Chris didn’t remember how he got here or what happened before he lost consciousness.As far as Chris knew, he woke up in a bed.Clearing his throat, it felt wrong. It was…off. Swallowing the saliva in his mouth, that too had a certain note of…wrongness. Mouth dry, his tongue could barely move inside his mouth.Now Chris begun to get more concerned.Tossing on top of whatever he lay on, it was firm. It wasn’t his or any bed. Where was he…?There were objects keeping Chris still from getting up. One object being pressed to his chest that ached, stung. Wanting to take it off, Chris reached up to feel at his chest.“Well, looks like you got some much needed rest.” That voice. Chris jerked his limbs around after registering what was said and from who. Chris couldn’t get up. He knew the owner of that voice from the first word he had said.Panic swarmed in on Chris’ thoughts. Moving around roughly on whatever he lay on made other pains more prominent. He didn’t realize that his whole body felt sore, but painful as he zeroed in on the feeling. Down from his feet to his head. Blinking open his eyes, Chris saw black. Something was covering his eyes, he couldn’t see behind the fold.Trying to yell out, Chris couldn’t. It stung, and nothing came out.“Don’t stress yourself, Chris. You’ll be up and running in no time.” Wesker’s voice was closer now.Turning his head to be facing the man, Chris attempted to shout at him. Demand what he was doing. What was already done to Chris as he was kept under. His mouth was dry, not a peep slipped out.Wesker’s chuckle bounced around the small room, Chris could tell it wasn’t the room he had been knocked out in. This was a different one. Memories flooded back in. Chris recalled how he had been knocked unconscious. Where was he now?No matter how hard he tried, his body felt too heavy to fight against the restraints. It had to be such a thing that kept him still, Wesker wouldn’t allow Chris to be up and roaming on his own.Fighting the fog, the heaviness, his sluggish thrashing, his head spun in circles. Flopping around like a fish on land, it amused Wesker it would sound.“Oh Chris, you have no patience.” Wesker spoke beside Chris. “Let’s quit the theatrics shall I.”Hands touched Chris’ face, unlatching the blindfold.Chris shook his head to get the device off of him.The room was bright. Blinding. It took time for Chris to adjust to the new room. For now, Chris’ eyes squinted as he tried to see his surroundings.“After you had killed Jill, Chris, I was relieved I wouldn’t need to do it myself.” Wesker talked, Chris could see his outline. “Then I remembered how…‘helpful’ Jill was to my plan.”Chris’ vision was getting better. Blurry outlines turning into solid shapes.“So why not try to recreate a different version of what we implanted in her.” Chris stared back at the black shades Wesker wore. “I expect great things from you now, don’t disappoint me. Will you, Chris?”Chris tried, again, to shout out profanities to the madman. His ex-captain had lost his mind however long ago. What had he meant by ‘a different version of Jill’. What had he done to her. Chris didn’t learn this before or after her death. He lay there without a clue as to what Wesker meant.“Ah yes, I forget that you won’t be able to answer back anymore.” Wesker’s smirk formed out from the blur. “Here, let me help you understand.”Wesker turned away for a brief moment before his return with a mirror in hand. Chris fought the restraints, a trick, Chris assumed.Except it wasn’t anything more than a mirror. Held up, Chris saw his own pale face.As he couldn’t speak from the dryness, Chris wondered if Wesker was mocking him. He was, but why would he wish to show him his own face.“Focus, Chris. Look closely.” Wesker said.Between staring daggers at Wesker and seeing what he wanted to be shown to him, what would be the point. Taking a glance down, it was the same. It was himself. Creases on his face at the scowl he stared back to. Eyes shooting back up, glaring down the psychopath.Chris had seen something.Taking another glance down at the mirror. It wasn’t in his mind, it was something different.Bandages were wrapped around his throat. White and freshly wrapped, they were perfectly pristine. Fresh.“Haven’t connected the dots yet?” Wesker asked, mockingly.Chris looked back and forth from the man to himself in the mirror. Conflicted at what he was seeing, it meant nothing.“Come on, you have no clue?” Wesker’s grin spread, he was enjoying this.“Let me explain it to you then.” Wesker’s free hand reached out and grasped Chris’ throat.Squeezing onto it, Chris choked. It hurt with even the minimal amount Wesker inflicted. Gasping and stuttering out shaky breaths. It hurt, badly.“An operation was performed on you. That annoying voice of yours will be much quieter now.” Wesker’s red blaring eyes were visible under the darkened lenses. Chris could see how joyous and proud he was. “I’ll be able to get some peace and quiet now that this is dealt with.”Then, Chris understood.While he had been unconscious, by injury then medically, Wesker had surgically removed his vocal chords. Chris had wondered why his throat felt different.“And a few other things that you won’t be needing anymore.” Wesker let go of Chris’ neck.The hand left his view and an audible click rung.What Chris lay on moved. Slowly moving for Chris to be upwards. Not in the manner of a hospital bed, but the whole bed being moved upright.As it moved, Chris’ throat felt worse than before. Unsure if it was due to the cruel manhandling of the recent medical procedure or the sensation of his soul wanting to leave his body. He hadn’t thought that Wesker would go this far. Chris thought that Wesker wanted him dead.Jill, had he done this to Jill too… Questions couldn’t be asked anymore.“I’m interested to see how you will handle your new body.” Wesker said to his left.Fully upright, Chris’ head fell down. His neck sprained and jolted at the sudden drop.Opening his eyes was the next piece of horror that Chris would experience next to seeing Jill’s face.The dizziness fading, Chris saw his body. What was left of it.His arms weren’t strapped down and neither were his legs. Two secure bands of metals under his armpits and one over his hip, they were what secured Chris down.Below his knees and below his elbows, nothing was there.Chris thought for a moment that he was looking at a television screen. Seeing a photograph or another person’s body. The birthmarks aligned with his own. The scars that he got over years matched his memory. The new scar tissues were already forming over the stitches of each stumped limb.Chris twitched his fingers, they felt real — alive. He was moving them, he had no hands. His stumped arms bulged but the nerves. The ghost of his fingers existed but his eyes — reality — told another story.His eyes drooped lower towards his chest, a red colored contraption was stuck to his skin.Jerking his body around, it didn’t budge.Chris’ head faced upright, staring forward at Wesker with utter shock. Past Wesker were two metal shelves. Movable by remote-control. Each shelf had metallic limbs hung to them. Two arms and two legs, the four limbs that had been stripped away. Chris knew this from one of the devices having fingers and the other having toes.He couldn’t speak even if he had the ability to. All the incoming information overworked Chris’ brain, short-circuiting his cognitive responses.“We were able to make something especially for you, Chris.” Wesker held a remote device in hand, not hiding it from view. “Jill had one similar that we implanted on her, but she was a different case.”Wesker made it sound like Chris was a disappointment. Inferior to Jill.“For you, we needed to adjust.” Wesker hovered his thumb over the screen. “Let’s see how well you take it, shall we.”At the press of a button, Chris let out a soundless scream. The device ingrained on his chest jolted and whirled. Digging and scrapping around. Piercing needles all around, then chills.His bones and muscles froze, stuck in a strained position. His body didn’t move for a moment.As it did, his body relaxed more after each second. Chris didn’t move a muscle, but his body did. Even his eyes moved wherever they pleased.The shelves holding the mechanical limbs came closer. A device resembling a claw machine hand picked up one limb at a time. Putting them on the stump ends of his limbs where they would then clamp down — tightly.One after the other, each was fastened to Chris’ body.Chris felt and saw all of it. Fully conscious of everything. Stuck in his thoughts that flooded back in.At the end, the metal belts holding Chris up snapped away. Letting Chris fall down, but his legs caught him.Chris didn’t move anything right then, it hadn’t been him. Though he tried to fight back control, it was all out of his hands. Something else controlled his movements, everything.Rising out of his crouch at preventing his fall, Chris stood straight in front of Wesker.The hands clenched and relaxed. The calves flexed it’s mobility. The control over his body was testing if it was alive, working.“Good. This is good.” Wesker admired his creation. “You work for me whether you like it or not now, Chris.”Wesker hovered the same finger over the screen again.“The moment that you get out of this, with how hard I’m sure you’ll try, say goodbye to these.” Wesker referred to the mechanical limbs stuck to him with his hand. “Can’t have you risking my life — my power — here, Chris. Not anymore or ever again.”Wesker pressed the button, and all of a sudden, the mechanical arms fell away. Clattering to the floor, it was heavy as the walls shook. Chris had regained access to his body, but at a price.The secure locks that squeezed his legs didn’t save him from standing straight any longer. Slipping out from them, them being deactivated immediately upon regaining access to his body, Chris’s fast approach to the pristine ground was immanent.Chris had outstretched his hands to save his fall. Only to end up putting his current body weight on his fresh stitches of the stumps.Silenced cries and screams of pain, mouth wide open as nothing came out. The pain spiked all throughout his body.The stitches had torn, blood seeped out from the cracks and pooled around his trembling arms.Wesker pressed his shoe on Chris’ face in order for him to stare up at him. Wesker, wearing that prideful smirk, spoke down to him like a dog.“This fits you better than that uniform you wore.” Wesker stood back up.Walking away out of the room, Wesker let Chris lay there on the cold medical ground for hours.To prove a point, Chris couldn’t do anything to help himself. Although free from whatever control had taken over, it would be useless if he got free of it himself.With the hours alone with himself on the cooling floor, Chris had only himself for company. His thoughts of Jill. Her face.Had she too experienced something like that. Her control stripped away like his were. Wesker had made it sound like that would be the case.Chris had been fully aware and conscious. Was Jill awake?She was forced to fight her only friend and said friend murdered her. Shattering her skull, rearranging her brains. Chris cried on the floor in pain. He was trapped here, forced to lay in his own blood.However Chris replayed the instance, it didn’t take back his mistake. Jill. Her body would be gone by now, no one would know.Only when the device on his chest whirled back to life, forcing Chris to be controlled again, did doctors come into the room. Wesker did not accompany the group.They had picked him up off the floor and restitched his bleeding stumps. Offering no anesthesia, they too reset Chris up to the mechanical limbs. His ‘new body’ as Wesker had put it.Chris didn’t know where his body went, watching but not knowing. The device ingrained in his chest knew where he would go and what to do.Outside. Chris saw Wesker’s new world.Ashes. Destruction had taken over the world. The skies were cloudy and buildings collapsing one after the other.Chris didn’t see Wesker often, to his delight, but when he did…Chris would be tormented and tortured while being unable to do anything about it.Physically or mentally. Wesker knew the relationship between Jill and Chris. He had no mercy in reminding Chris constantly of the torture she was forced to endure. Even demonstrating it on him when Wesker pleased.His new world had time for himself. He no longer needed to plan or plot. Wesker ruled over the world, just as he had dreamed.When Chris had completed one of Wesker’s missions assigned through the device, they would unhook him from the mechanical limbs. Doctors would come and collect him, the human part of him. While not in use by the device, they would lock Chris up in a coffin. Form fitting, vents for him to breath, but to keep Chris from ever being able to crawl away.Eyes were on constant watch over Chris. Under control or not, Chris could do nothing. Even alone, his own voice couldn’t keep him company from the ringing of nothingness.One of his missions had been to — coincidentally — pass by the laboratories. The doctors and scientists studying further on what else could be evolved.Those same red-orange flowers bloomed madly in that same underground field. No matter the time that had passed since he first saw them, they were still beautiful to him. If Jill had passed by these, did she cling onto those for sanity as Chris tried.Eventually, Chris would lose his mind. Already breaking as tears would collect in his eyes for ‘seemingly’ no reason.He would prefer to have been dead.To take all the torture for a year, or more, than to live like this any longer. Treated like an animal or a computer depending on the time.Wesker would never let Chris know death, if he could prevent it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The letter received in the mail from his missing wife startled the lover to his core.

Having solely radio silence for three years to suddenly get the message ‘Come get me’ with a location and even property name, it felt like a dream as he came to terms with the new reality. Ethan had his suspicions that Mia had been hiding information from him, their trust wanning in the midst of their marriage. That was why Ethan thought that she left without another word.

As it would appear to him, parking the car outside a property known as the Baker estate, re-read the printed note specifically for him. Mia’s name written clearly and legible, she was here. Ethan would do as the note would say. He would come for his wife.

Down deep in the swamplands of Louisiana, a mansion stood erect amongst the trees. Hidden from sight and concealed thanks to the lack of road leading to the property. No one would come up here without a reason. The humid air sticking to his hair, Ethan felt wet standing at the locked rusted gate of the estate.

No key in sight to unlock the padlock and neither was a person on the other line of the intercom he pressed. Buzzing the house, no one came to answer the call.

Ethan took a good look of the estate. The quaint structure of the home had been tainted with moss and mud. A white paint that had been stroked to the wooden sidings begun it’s nature of chipping off, old and desperately needing its new coat.

It was ironic, Ethan thought. They had been married for — how many years — and she has been here this whole time. A big house for a big family. What would the point be for her to stay here if she were alone. The path back to the nearest town had been well over an hour away. Reaching this point proved trickier than anticipated, a whole lot of those stereotypical southern folks wanting nothing to do with the ‘Cursed Baker Estate’.

Rumors. That was what Ethan had labeled it. The south wasn’t welcoming to outsiders that weren’t themselves whom they grew up with. Though even then — as it exposed itself — not even that protected you from the scowling eyes of the locals.

That had been what fuddled Ethan’s thoughts. Why would Mia be here, alone in this house. Secondly, why would Mia be in an abandoned one. One that had stories behind it that Ethan lent his ear to.

Nasty stories. Warnings from the gas station worker that up to twenty people have gone missing in the last three years. Another oddity that ticked off minor alarm bells.

Mia had gone missing three years ago. Is she part of the missing people he heard of.

Almost like a horror movie that him and Mia would watch on the occasion, it had to be a long con. A prank that would take years in the making.

If not — if all of this is the whole truth — what is Mia doing out here.

Whatever it would be, no matter the blaring horns of danger, Ethan would search for his wife regardless.

Due to the locked fence, beginning strong in his journey with denied entry, Ethan looked elsewhere.

Just a ways from the fence to his left, a minivan had been parked. Investigating the vehicle, there had been loads of objects left behind.

With investigative expertise, Ethan deduced that a film crew had been here. No idea if they were still there or… Ethan would rather not entertain a latter option. Hoping that it would mean that there were more people here than he thought. Perhaps, he may even come across some and get some answers.

Unwelcome guests it appeared.

Beside the minivan there had been a part of the fence snipped open by wire cutters. Allowing anyone and anything to crawl through.

Choosing the alternate choice of entry, Ethan made his entry onto the property.

Nature was an immaculate thing. To be treasured and experienced. Life went on around humans and animals. Giving and taking at times, but staring at the swamp water had a sense of ease. Ethan wasn’t a fool, he had made sure there wouldn’t be any ‘gators’ around him. How to spot them, how to flee from them. Signs and tellings that there were some around.

Although Louisiana had many reptiles and animals inside their swamps, not even a bird chirped. Not near him or what he could tell. Trees absorbed sound, it was much easier to disappear in the woods than one would imagine.

The rustling of grass grazing upon each other, the rippling of water as a leaf would drop onto the middle of the reflective surface. Mindlessly, it felt peaceful. Perhaps, Ethan lamented, this was why she stayed here.

It was a beautiful place, in a more than peculiar sense, to stay here. A massive home, fill the rooms with loved ones.

Ethan too didn’t like being here. The calm winds and the sun shining past the brushes, it left a bittersweet taste. It shouldn’t be like this. There should be more life here. If not around him then in the home. Why had it been that he hadn’t seen anyone — until he had.

A man, out of reach of Ethan more than a few feet, walked off. It felt like an accident that he had seen him. Not calling out to the man, Ethan was breaking and entering. He knew not if he had a gun on his person, he could shoot and kill Ethan for even being on his property.

The man wasn’t young but wasn’t old. Balding on the top of his head, gray hairs where it hadn’t fallen out, and straight backed as he disappeared. Ethan didn’t get a better look of the man. Ethan presumed him to be the owner.

Ethan needed to brush aside the fear of being shot and went forwards. Coincidentally, following behind where the man went off to. All other routes were covered in bushes and vines, no other way than forward.

Corpses and bones were strayed all over the place. Hanging from trees, blood cleaned off of the white bones. A person put these up.

If Ethan had been close to quitting, he would have taken this as a sign to turn back. Something was very, very wrong here. Mia, Ethan went on for her. She asked him to be here, asked to be saved — he interpreted. He wouldn’t leave here without her.

Arriving to a smaller sized home, it was worse for ware. The wooden sidings coming off, the paint disintegrating off of itself. Dead flowerbeds with crippled blooms lay about freely. Nothing had been alive here for years. Leaves black and dirt dry as ashes. Who could live here.

Inside the home looked far worse than what he could have ever imagined it to be. The squeaking floorboards, smell of rotting wherever he went. Grime covered the windows, making it difficult for natural light to seep in.

Ethan had his flashlight out the entire time while inside the home.

Even with Mia being somewhere on the Baker property and seeing — most probably — the owner of the Baker property, no one was around. Silent as the dead, nothing was left behind but death.

The fridge filled with rotted grocery and a stew pot overflowing with insects. Bugs and mold were the only things alive here.

Exploring what he could, Ethan discovered a video tape. It showed what had happened to the filming crew, the same from the minivan outside the estate. Watching it until the end, they were all dead. Seeing someone’s corpse collapse on top of the camera man.

What the footage did provide was a contraption under the fireplace.

Trying to correct the error of the last people who were here, Ethan took his time to listen for anything. Footsteps, breathing, the centipedes crawling up the walls,
anything
. Ethan’s ears were perked while in the basement of this house.

Then came the flooded floor. His flashlight illuminating dark brown water, Ethan presumed it to be sewage water. Letting out a heavy sigh, Ethan had nowhere else to explore. Going back wasn’t an option, not now.

At the second his feet were submerged in the ‘water’ a chill ran up his legs. Soaking into his socks and — it may have been all in his head — slushy between his toes as he scrunched them up.

It smelt vile down there in the basement, but what basement smelt good.

The answer would be any of them. Putrid as it assaulted his nose, scent turning stronger the deeper he sunk into the water. Having to crouch over to crawl through a waterlogged passageway, the water fully soaking him.

His nose close to the water, brown water slashing on his face. Walking carefully through the rancid water, something caught Ethan’s foot. Tripping over something softer than the dirt, Ethan fell forward. Temporarily fully submerged, accidentally inhaling the water.

Vile wasn’t close to the proper word he would describe the taste that clung to his mouth. Filled in past his lips and slipped down his throat as stomach acid would, it had texture that water shouldn’t have.

Hurriedly standing up in the passage, knocking his head on the roof of the space made him see stars. His vision swaying, the taste took his attention away from the floating corpse that had tripped him. Said body now floating on the surface of the water.

As the swaying stopped, Ethan’s heart did the same.

The man. The man from the video tape floated face up in the same water he was in. The same that Ethan just took a gulp of.

Clutching his hand over his mouth, Ethan was about to throw up. Moving around the corpse, Ethan tried to hurl. Gagging hard, the smell making it worse. He could throw up, no matter that he had been face-to-face with a dead mean.

His body had locked up, his throat tightened, Ethan couldn’t do anything but wipe off the liquid with his hands. Trying as he might to brush off the disgusting odor. Looming over his head, he felt a headache pulsate faintly. Behind his left eye, it had already started.

Ethan had too had his eyes open as he went submerged. Rubbing his eyes, they had a slime over his skin.

Groaning in disgust, Ethan spat out what he could.

A bit of light illuminated his surroundings, but Ethan retrieved his flashlight from his pocket. Swiping around his person, the water rose higher on this side. A basement with poor ventilation for flooding. No house in this state is supposed to have a basement. For proper reasons. The owners of this house must have realized that and left. No one could live in this deteriorating building.

That other home, the one tall in the sky that the sun shone over, playing up the ‘innocence’ of what lay inside.

With his flashlight in one hand, his other came hesitantly to his mouth. There was something in there. He hadn’t eaten anything that would explain
that
.

Figuring that he had already swallowed some of the basement water, Ethan stuck two fingers into his mouth.

Difficulty pinching onto the foreign object, it had been quite easy. Pinched by his nails, Ethan begun pulling it out.

Ethan’s gag reflex flared up at the sensation of a long piece of — hair? — being pulled out from his throat. Guessing the length, he guessed it to be no longer than his finger. Yet, it had been close to being slipped down his gullet if he hadn’t acted as quick.

Yanking the rest out held by his fingers, it set off a violent reaction in Ethan. Coughing heavily and restarting another gagging session. Ethan had never wished he could throw up more than then.

As much as he knew he should have minded his business, Ethan needed to check. Out of nerves and boyhood curiosity, taking an eyeful had been exactly what he did.

Holding up the small piece that had been pulled out, shorter than it had felt, black. A hairy noodle, black in color as he gaped at the alien object he held up.

Taking a closer look, Ethan didn’t know what he stared at. Nothing special, but nauseating to think that it had been in his mouth seconds ago.

Ethan didn’t know if he saw something but, did it move?

Staring intensely at the end of the ‘noodle’ , it did it again. This time, it moved more as a snake. The ‘hair’ standing up and spreading out, reaching out as an organism does.

Shouting out a curse, Ethan threw the — whatever it was — away from him. A plop from the water and that was it. Spitting out more of his saliva, it took a bit for Ethan to get back on track.

Sick to his stomach, turning the flashlight up to glow on the closed door before him, he went on.

Past the door and passing corners there would be something waiting for Ethan.

At the end was a cell. Barred doors and a lock keeping the small room untouched.

Nothing of note leaped out to him, until he saw an unconscious body sleeping on the bed.

“Mia-” Ethan started, no response. Not a budge or anything.

Panic flooded in, why was she locked inside of this room. Did she still have a pulse?

Ethan searched for a way in. Bolt cutters lay around the room which he used to break into the room.

Brown hair, long and flowing, could it really be true. He didn’t recognize her clothes but that mattered little in face of who it was.

Rushing over to the unconscious body, Ethan turned the woman over on the bed.

“Mia! Thank god I found you. It’s me. It’s Ethan!” Ethan said with a smile.

Her face. Her eyes blinking open hazily, it was really her. It was Mia.

His missing wife of three years stared at him with a moment of relief. Morphing into one of shock. Demanding why he had been here and that he shouldn’t be.

Asking about ‘him’ and if ‘he’ had seen Ethan.

At that, Mia grabbed Ethan and begun their escape.

Ethan had found his wife, with little issue — minus witnessing at least one murder on film. He had saved her from whatever they were in the middle of, they could leave now.

Wanting to ask what she had been doing here and why she had been gone so long, it got pushed aside by Mia. The most important thing they needed to do was escape.

Whatever these sick people had done, they would inflict the same to them both. If they didn’t hurry, Ethan and Mia may become like the film crew.

Overall, Mia looked perfectly fine and healthy. Aside from her clearly mentally stressed state, she acted as herself. Not a scratch on her, her hair tangled but no injuries to be seen. Ethan felt safer being around her. For whatever reason Mia had for leaving him for this long, he believed they would pull through this.

Down the hallway that Mia lead them both down, she swore that she knew the way out. There being an exit up ahead that she had been down.

The rooms. Entering one, it looked as if it were a butchers shop of torture. A medical table for a patient to be laid back on, covered in blood and guts. Splatters of red on the floor to the ceiling. Chains scattered on the floor with brown muck stuck to the metal. Dried blood.

Ethan couldn’t help but look at Mia in horror. Was this hers? She looked back, startled the same as he. Fear creasing on her face, it made her seem helpless to what had been inflicted to her.

Thinking about it, the man from the video matched the man Ethan saw outdoors earlier upon his arrival to the trespassed property. He had done this all himself and kept people down here. It couldn’t have been Mia’s blood. There being too much to explain how full of life she appeared to be.

Pale in the face, but not deathly so. Mia knew something. He needed to get her out of there. Save her. They can get away from this place.

Entering down the hallways and sidling down tight spots were the least of their problems. Mia freaked out, startling the hushed silence they created for them both.

Mia exclaimed that the exit had been exactly where she groped a blank wall. Running her hands over the solid surface and swearing she had gone through there before.

“It’s not here. It’s gone. It’s gone!” Mia shouted out in sheer panic.

There — in fact — was no door. Worry had been coursing through his body, now, Ethan worried for Mia’s mental state. Very clearly distressed at the discovering that no doorway waited for them both. Ethan could only guess what Mia went through at that moment.

Wanting to go over to comfort her, he couldn’t.

Ethan coughed, the moist air in the basement tickling his throat. He coughed quietly in his shoulder, stifling the strong sound. It would turn out to activate that earlier need to empty his stomach. A short cough to clear his passageways became more aggressive than he had wished.

Turning away from Mia, Ethan felt his chest fall forward. Indicating how his body prepared to expel it’s contents. He didn’t want for her to see him like this, not after all this time.

“We’re going to be a family — now that you’re here.” Mia said softly, whimsically.

Ethan slowed his breathing best he could and turned around to stare at her.

What had she said?

“There’s another door here. I’m sure of it.” Mia, her usual self, said without further explanation.

Ethan stared dumbfounded, had he imaged that. Had he misheard her or had she said she wanted to make a family — here of all places.

Watching her as she sat down, another room awaited to be searched. Ethan looked back between her and the other room, perhaps she thought it would be in there.

Wanting to check for himself before dragging her over — her being clearly exhausted — what harm could it possibly do. Her bleary mind going to places that they could easily discuss on their drive out of this place.

Inside the room, it’s walls were smaller and more tight. On a shelf against the far wall, two well worn dolls were waiting. One lay on the floor that resembled Mia. Another, long flowing hair — a bow to tie part of it back.

Screams. Mia’s screams resounded inside the small room.

“Leave me alone!” Mia begged.

A return back to where he had started, Mia was gone. The ‘door’ she had mentioned — exactly where she said it had to be — stared back at him.

Chasing after her, not hearing a sound where he ran, Ethan ran up darkened steps leading up.

A hallway, lacking of any sign of his distressed wife. What little there were, it wasn’t empty.

A phone sat atop a table in the hallway. Picking it up, a dial tone beeped repeatedly. It functioned, would he be able to call for help?

Placing the phone handle gently down, it would wait. Mia could be in trouble, her screams sounded horrified at the sight of whoever she had encountered.

Lights provided by the lamps about didn’t break through the black fog inside the home. The sun long gone from the sky, with the panes of glass being covered in muck. The darkness cut off the ability to see what lay ahead, making anyone and everyone forced to move forward.

Mold lived on the walls, eating up the light and distorting the human eye. A door had been permanently closed with boards of wood. A bathroom that had medicine for the injured, Ethan could use this for Mia when he finds her. If she had been hurt.

Knocking. A distance away but loud, it came down where he left from.

Returning back to the now closed door, Ethan pushed it open. The knocking had ceased, quiet except for the whooshing winds outside.

Ethan focused his eyes, slowly walking down the creaking steps. A form he could make out crawled up the same stairs. Ethan’s heart dropped, feeling the blood drain from his face as the shadows shaping into a body took form before his very eyes. Hair, hands, clothes, they were taking from the darkness to show someone he had been looking for.

In a second, the woman’s face grinned inches away from Ethan’s. It was Mia. The clothes she had worn, the wrinkles on her face that Ethan had memorized — there could be no mistaking it.

Deformed, her face was graying — pale. Beyond pale, far off from sickly, Mia looked possessed. Her eyes showing such joyous anger, gleeful as she picked Ethan up to throw him back up to the top of the stairs. Crashing into the wall, his head knocking into the firm surface.

Mia
couldn’t
have gotten that strong after all this time.

His lungs struggling to keep up, already tired due to dry heaving he had done. Standing straight up, Mia stood right there. Her mouth stretched open wickedly, her gums blackened.

Mia had produced a knife in her hand, the steel glinting in the light.

Ethan backed up only for Mia to lunge at him, swiping the knife towards Ethan’s face.

It all went by in a blur. Survival instinct kicking in, fight-or-flight taking over.

Ending with one final swing of his axe, stabbed deeply into Mia’s neck.

Her face, that horrid monster that wore her face slipped. Mia’s came through. Betrayal, pain.

Realization kicked in. Threading his fingers through his hair, shaking his head no, what had he done.

Ethan had found his wife. After three years. He killed her. He killed her.

Tears were rising up, he didn’t know what he had done. It had been in self defense, she would have killed him, but how could he live with himself now.

Brushing her hair out of her face, he wanted to take one last look at her.

Pain had been what he saw. Hoping to have seen peace, bile rose up his throat.

Scrambling away from her Ethan clawed at his throat. It drove him crazy. He wanted to throw up.

Her blood on his hands, mixing in with his own. Shoving two fingers to the back of his throat, Ethan wanted to get it over with. He couldn’t take this growing disgust. His head got lighter by the minute, his walking swaying.

The taste of blood coated his tongue, but it didn’t matter. Ethan wanted to get whatever upset his stomach
out
. Drool dripping out of his mouth, the persistent dry gagging made the room spin. Eventually, Ethan gave up on the attempt. More frustrated now than before, he swallowed her blood.

Ethan didn’t notice that he had done it, but that too
burned
. It tingled, scratching an itch.

Ringing.

Ethan thought that it had been the ringing in his ear but it really had been a phone. The phone in the hallway he had picked up. The dial tone had been there, he could call for help. He could call somebody to come get them both out of here.

Slumping his way to the phone in the hallway, the room swayed with him.

Picking up the line, Ethan held it up to his ear. Not saying a word, waiting for whoever was on the other line.

“You really shouldn’t have come here.” A southern woman’s voice. Not one Ethan had ever heard before.

“Who’s this?” Ethan looked down at the phone, it must be the landline for inside the house. “And what the fuck is going on?”

What had been going on. A many changes in what he had believed and experienced. Why had Mia attacked him. Was it linked to what this ‘man’ Mia had been referring to have something to do with it.

“My name’s Zoe.” Ethan listened, taking mental note of her name. “There should be a way out through the attic.”

Attic.

“Go there — now.” Zoe finished with the click of the call ending.

Staring down at the receiver, Ethan gently placed the phone back.

The click of a door opening and closing, Ethan flashed his flashlight down the hall. No one was there.

Walking towards the only other locked door in the hallway, Ethan passed by the demolished room.

No one was there.

Mia was gone.

Blinking a few times, taking a closer look at what he saw. Some of her blood remained where he had collapsed to the ground, not nearly enough for a neck wound. The axe had been left behind.

Picking up the weapon, Ethan examined the floor. Dust and debris made itself known, as for Mia’s blood. Hardly anything had been left on the floor panels. No trails leading out where she went, she vanished out of thin air.

Except she hadn’t, she had to still be around.

The blood pooled on the floor had already begun turning in color. Mold, it had been the mold that he stared at. Small speckles of blood had been being absorbed in the spores.

Staring at it for a moment, Ethan concluded with himself that it was the nature of mold. Black mold, mildew, they fed off of moisture.

Right.

Yes.

That had to be it, Ethan told himself. It couldn’t have been anything else, because that can’t be possible.

Mia wasn’t dead, thoughts of her safety flooded in. He needed to find her. What was going on here. She had been acting funny ever since he saw her alone in that cell-like room. The way she spoke at times were odd, even for her.

A family. Ethan hadn’t forgotten what she had said. He didn’t oppose of the idea, but not here. They would discuss it once they escaped. They were together, out of danger.

Ethan left down the hallway, the door at the end of the hall now unlocked magically.

He had returned back to the side of the house he had left behind. That room with the fireplace that held a hidden pathway down to the basement to his left.

There had been a cupboard that had chains wrapped around it’s doors on the other side of the home — by the kitchen. He went over to open it to find the fuse for the electricity box.

Tucking the fuse inside his pocket, there on his right were the ‘stairs’ that could be activated.

A glimpse of Mia walked away down the hallway flashed before him. She walked on like a zombie, ignoring the appearance of him in the kitchen. Running after her, entering back into the hallway, she was no where in sight.

Ethan had seen her walk away.

What the fuck, Ethan cursed to himself.

At the fuse box, Ethan placed in what he had found. Slotting it into it’s place, a red light flicked onto green.

Knowing exactly where these ‘stairs’ may be, it would be up the ones just outside the door.

Leaving the living room to enter the hallway, Ethan had been distracted temporarily. Enough so that Mia leaped out of the small room beside the living room startled him greatly.

Jumping back, seeing no blood on her body from what had gone down minutes prior. Again, confusion seemed to be much more common than he would have guessed. Instead of answers he had been long looking for, his world was actively being warped and changed.

Particularly when Mia attacked him. Stabbing Ethan’s palm with a screwdriver, sticking it to the wall.

At her retreat, Ethan begun trying to pull out the screwdriver out of his hand. Hurting incredibly, needing to pause after every try.

During the ordeal of trying to get unstuck from the wall, Ethan lost his hand to Mia wielding a chainsaw. The motor running, it being drowned out from his adrenaline kicking in.

Ethan had thought he heard Mia say something before he disappeared up the stairs. Saying something about keeping the infection inside. Burning it down to the ground.

It didn’t sound like Mia at all, that foreign voice mimicking her. The love that he heard in her tone had been snuffed out. Not a hint of it lingered in any of the words she spoke. Mia spoke soft and clearly, a patience she knew how to wear. This new, alien person was angry. Malevolent in it’s whole meaning.

Ethan went after her.

He knew something was wrong with her. He could save her, stop whatever ‘infection’ she had been mumbling about. There could be a way. There could have been one.

On the upstairs, the ‘stairs’ button had meant the attic. This Zoe he met on the phone had said he needed to go up there.

Of pure coincidence, Ethan went up the steps assuming to see Mia.

In one of the immediate rooms had a weapon, a handgun. Picking up the loaded firearm and the ammunition on the same table, Ethan felt much better about the circumstance.

Journeying down the hall, Mia finally made her appearance that he anticipated for.

Wielding her chainsaw again had been trouble. Mia rushing towards Ethan, swiping and stabbing the weapon towards him. Attempting to cut off Ethan’s head, pushing hard to slice into his neck the same that he had. But, Ethan managed to take down his wife. Again.

This time, Ethan didn’t fear that she would be dead. Somehow, she was alright. Sure, he had a handgun now, but an axe to the neck isn’t something one bounces back from. Examining her neck, a fully healed neck stared back. Not a cut nor a bruise presented on her neck. As if it never happened.

Mia was unconscious, Ethan can still save her. He needed to find rope or something to tie her down in case she — that
thing
— came out. He could carry her back to the car.

Zoe, she had said something about the attic. What was up here.

A hand on the shoulder spun Ethan around. Coming face-to-face with the one and only ‘daddy’. The man he had seen walking outside, and the man who had killed the film crew on the videotape.

“Welcome to the family, son.” The man said.

The old man’s fist flew into Ethan’s face. Launching him backwards, falling down onto the ground. This man, he had a whole ton of strength behind him.

Mia, beside him on the floor, looked asleep on the ground. Ethan had been so close to getting them both out.

That had been before a booted foot came stomping, crunching down on Ethan’s face.

Bits and pieces of visions passed by him. He couldn’t tell if it was a dream. It didn’t feel real or like a dream. Ethan couldn’t tell if he saw anything at all. Vague, brief images flashed before him. Blinking. He had blinked awake.

Rain, freezing on his skin soaked him. Keeping his eyes open hurt more than keeping them closed. Letting his eyelids fall, to reopen however much time later.

Below him he saw that man carrying Mia on his shoulder. His other hand dragged Ethan along through grass and mud.

It being easier to keep his eyes shut rather than force the scene to play out, it had been enough.

“Come on — don’t you die on us, now. You have work to do.” That voice.

Ethan had heard it before. From where…?

Prickles of pain spread out from his arm. Clicking sounds, the feeling of being stabbed with short needles shook him enough to open his eyes.

His head hung down, Ethan saw the retreat of a pair of feet. He couldn’t move his limbs at all. Twitching his fingers and toes, that had been all.

Next, his throat was sore. Raw, but not dry. Gurgling. Something filled his throat, yet nothing was in front of his mouth.

If that had been her. If it was Zoe, she had given Ethan something. A nudge to stay alive, an infection that could stave off death.

Ethan finally woke at a dinner table.

“Where am I? What the hell?” Ethan mumbled.

He could tell his body felt different. That may due partially to the fact that his left hand had been stapled back on.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It’s time for supper.” A jittering woman to his right spoke to him.

Her face, her skin, it looked exactly what Mia had over herself while being someone else.

Four faces were faced towards him. The shaking woman, followed by the old man who knocked him out, a young man, and an elderly woman. The last one, her face proved difficult to decipher. She didn’t look to be in pain, but something had been…different.

“Who are all you people? Where’s Mia?” Ethan stared around the table, seeking out a sign of her.

Ethan’s eyes went back onto the elderly woman. She eyed him up, the small movements of her eyes giving it away the gleam of skepticism or interest.

The elderly woman that sat before the rest of this family felt noticeably out of place. Wrinkled skin in the dim light of a dinning room, she had to have lived a long fulfilling life. If she was trapped here in her wheelchair, imprisoned as Mia was, this couldn’t go on.

Ethan’s head swam in nausea, a whisper just out of reach for him to hear. It had been soft, childlike. Someone spoke to Ethan in some sort of way that held no urgency. Meant to be light and delicate. How many others were being held here by this mad family across from him.

If the elderly woman had been another one of their supposed victims — as he had seen in their basement — she too needed to be saved. This woman couldn’t defend herself. Laid back in her wheel chair watching her family dig into the laid out dinner. No one fed her nor helped to care for her. Letting her sit there as they dined.

The family didn’t appear to mind the elderly woman’s appearance. Letting her join in on the ‘special dinner’.

Ethan refused to eat the food no matter how they scarfed it down. The smell radiating off of the piles of slob on plates would kill a small rodent. Grayed food, slime coated over the surface of whatever the mother had cooked up. A disarray of a ‘meal’ with candlelight flickering off the glistening surfaces.

The young man — soon after discovered his name to be Lucas — threw his plate of food at Ethan. Joyously laughing as the sticky food splashed all over his face. Dropping off and down to his lap, it’s foul stench clung to his nose.

Ethan knew that name. He had heard it from the videotape he had watched in the other house.

‘Daddy’, as Mia had referred to him, did not think this to be as humorous as Lucas did.

Grabbing onto Lucas’ arm, the older man proceeded to cut off his hand with a knife off the table. Yells from Lucas didn’t sway the old man’s intentions. Taking the cut off hand with him, the old man walked around the table towards Ethan. Tossing the limb to the ground, his eyes were glued to Ethan’s.

Learning that the mother’s name was Marguerite — the same name he had heard from the videotape — it begun to click. If the young man was Lucas, and the woman was Marguerite, the old man must have been Jack Baker. This was the Baker family.

Watching Jack walk over, blood covered knife, with glaring eyes would have made anyone piss themselves. Jack’s eyes had that same loathsomeness swimming about. Skin pale and distorted, grave illness infected this family long ago.

“That boy’s got to eat! He got to have his supper.” Jack spoke as he approached the restrained Ethan.

If it hadn’t been for their first meeting in that attic, Ethan wouldn’t be as terrified of him. He had felt his strength, seen him cut off his own son’s hand without remorse, what else would he do.

He wanted Ethan to eat, but he didn’t want to. The flies around the room buzzed, loving the scent of the cooked ‘meal’ Marguerite had placed out for them all. Some flew into her hair, digging between the locks and vanishing into the graying hair.

Jack picked up some food off of a plate and brought it closer to Ethan’s face. Shoving it into his mouth, something wiggled on his tongue. It crawled backwards towards his esophagus. The flavor had been unlike anything he had tasted ever in his life.

The food squished on his tongue, his teeth easily slicing it apart as Jack’s fingers forced it in.

Ethan couldn’t have it in his mouth for more than a second. Vomiting out everything, Ethan mentally hoped that he had gotten out whatever had him dry heaving earlier that day.

It was too late for that.

The rejected meal had been met with great outrage from the family. Marguerite screaming, Jack shouting for her to shut up, Lucas enjoying the show. The two most sadistic at the table remained as the mother stormed out — too distraught to continue being in the same room — and the elderly woman too feeble to lift her own fingers.

“This was supposed to be a very special feast.” Jack held up a piece of vomit inducing food to Ethan’s face. “Come here, boy.”

Jack dropped the food on the table, then picked up the knife he had used to cut off Lucas’ hand.

Ethan got a good view of the knife pointed in front of his face before Jack went in. Carving up his firmly shut lips, cutting past them and grinding away his teeth. Slicing into Ethan’s gums, he could hear his teeth chipping away. Grinding away and starting to break them off.

Ethan leaned away from the knife in his mouth, shattering his teeth slowly. Jack held the back of his head, pushing him towards the knife.

When the knife pulled away from his mouth, blood spurted out past his lips. Dripping down his chin and tasting copper. His tongue ran over his teeth, cracks grazed over the tips of his tongue.

Jack was going to go in for another round but the phone rang.

Lucas — who’s face fell at the sight of Jack lowering the blade — said it’s probably a ‘cop’ again.

Ethan’s ears perked, if the cops were calling they may come here. He needed all the help he could get to get out of here.

Jack saw the slackened jaw of Ethan staring at Lucas and took the window. Picking up a hand full of food, Jack grabbed Ethan’s jaw and kept it open. With a hard shove, chipping off part of Ethan’s teeth, Jack shoved the food into his mouth.

A taste worse than before, powerful in part to the quantity. Ethan felt the bile filling back up his stomach.

Jack’s hand covered Ethan’s mouth, the other pinching Ethan’s nose closed.

Ethan jerked in his chair, fighting back as vomit rose up his throat. He couldn’t breathe. His eyes bulging as they landed on Jack’s horrifying face inches away from his own. His glasses showing the mirror of his face back to himself.

“Eat your fucking supper.” Jack’s eyes told Ethan that he was close to killing him if needed.

Doing the same as he had done to Lucas, take something away. Yet, Ethan couldn’t do anything. His mouth filled up, Ethan didn’t know what to do. Feeling his face go red had been what sealed the deal that Ethan may just suffocate to death.

Ethan did the one thing he knew would make it stop; begrudgingly, swallowing the large lump of the ‘meal’, along with the contents that rose up his throat, Jack removed his hands.

Ethan gasped for air. His ears popping and eyes blurring at the oxygen filling his lungs.

Coughing weakly off to the side, Ethan couldn’t throw up anymore. His throat burned from the stomach acid, he felt worse than he had before.

The food now filling his belly with whatever Marguerite had used to cook. It would be a rough rest of the evening.

Jack slapped — more punched — Ethan’s back. He had been happier seeing that Ethan listened to him.

What else could Ethan have done. Been killed when a cop could be around the corner to save him and Mia. He needed to live to save her.

His head spun in circles, strapped to the chair but his body swayed.

Jack and Lucas left the room. The phone eventually stopped it’s ringing. If only Ethan could have broken out and picked up that phone. He should have called for help.

The room now had only the two of them. The old lady and Ethan.

Staring back at her, her expression hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Ethan hadn’t heard of a grandmother from the tapes. Only heard of the notable people of the Baker family, it dawned on him.

The family left her behind to sit at the table. In Ethan’s eyes, each of them left her there to starve and rot in her seat.

There were more victims here than just Ethan and Mia.

Ethan broke out from his bondages to the chair by tipping himself over. The wood splintered, not broken. Standing up from the floor, the new home could now be explored.

Walking around the table, Ethan took note that the grandmother’s gaze followed wherever he went. Pausing at the locked stare, letting himself be frozen in place.

Ethan felt sorry for her, oddly. Of course, she hadn’t done anything to him…yet. On the other hand, could she…? Ethan would assume not, that was what he leaned on.

A warm embrace in his mind brought Ethan to walk closer to her. Not noticing that he came into her personal space, Ethan bent over to look her closely in the face.

The grandmother’s eyes were cold, a white film coating over the pupils. She must be losing her sight or had in totality. Her mouth cracked open, making it appear that she consistently grimaced or grinned. The wrinkles on her face distorted the expression she wore, hiding it’s meaning. Ethan thought to himself that she looked…lonely.

Leaning in to take a closer look, Eveline’s eyes blinked.

Ethan knew not what was happening, but the ‘grandmother’ was digging her talons into the man. Slowly, it worked on it’s own pace. Due to the fact that the infection that had already begun swarming in his system irreversibly. Making the control over him stronger, Eveline would continue to spin the yarn.

Minor control, warping the thoughts and perception of herself to Ethan. Working in time, a slow tumble down for the husband and wife. They both now trapped in her web, no one can get out anymore.

Ethan had been broken out of his trance — let go by Eveline — and she allowed him to roam. Inside the kitchen had stored more of their disturbing ‘food’ on shelves and cabinets. A latch to go underneath the house, locked.

Exploring the house, leaving the ‘grandmother’ behind for him to find their window to leave.

Jack walked around the halls. Ethan hiding away around corners and furniture.

Once the old man discovered that Ethan hadn’t been a good boy and stayed put, it would be tough news for Ethan. Sneaking around the halls and rooms to retrieve the key to the locked crawl space door.

Ethan made his way to the crawl space beside the kitchen.

Unlocking it with the key he had found himself down the end of a hall.

On the other end was the laundry room. A massive hole in the floor of the room let Ethan climb up into the previously locked space. Jack couldn’t get into this room.

Scavenging for anything of use that lay about, surprisingly a lot of items were around. From a lockpick to Chem Fluid, nothing would go to waste.

Soft breathing over his shoulder caught Ethan’s attention. Looking over his shoulder, there hadn’t been anyone around. Only himself for company, what he had heard must be in his mind.

Stinking of wet laundry, nothing else lay about to be of use.

As Ethan started to leave the room, the phone on the table rung. Looking at the ringing phone, Ethan hadn’t even noticed it.

Picking up the receiver, it was Zoe.

“You did good, Ethan.” She spoke over the line.

“Zoe, right? What the fuck are these-” Ethan had been cut off.

“Shut up and listen if you want to stay alive.” Zoe said, stern as to not be over talked. “You gotta get out of that house.”

Ethan had the same idea. But, he needed to first find Mia and get out of there.

The grandmother… Ethan needed to think of her too. Helpless to life the family put her in.

No, Ethan thought. He wanted to stay here for her…

Shaking his head, Ethan tossed out that odd idea that appeared to him. He wasn’t staying here for her, it was for Mia.

Why would he think of that old lady like that.

A tickle at the nape of his neck, Ethan spun around. He could have sworn someone’s eyes were watching him. No one else stood in the laundry room. Ethan holding the receiver with Zoe speaking on the other line, locked in a trance.

Ethan wanted to…
care
for the grandmother? She may still be in the dinning room, he would take a look in to see if she was okay.

“Hello? You still there?” Zoe spoke firmly over the line.

Ethan’s attention had been ripped out from wherever it drifted to. Blinking away to haze that covered his vision, putting back his attention onto what he held in his hand.

“Yes. I’m listening.” Ethan answered.

Zoe waited a beat, then went on to what she had previously been saying.

“In the main hall, there might be a way out through there.” Zoe sighed over the receiver. “ Another thing, that thing on your wrist is a codex. Don’t lose it. It’s important.”

Then she hung up her end of the line.

Staring down at the phone, Ethan wondered what had come over her.

‘Don’t trust her.’
Ethan heard.

A childlike voice, it startled him. Slamming the receiver down and turning around fully to where he had heard the child’s voice. The room changed for a moment, graying out as tv static.

Ethan clutched his head, bent over and eased the headache away. Pulsating in his skull, mean shocks zapped his brain.

Funny. A headache that had come out of nowhere stung more as Ethan tried fighting it.

There hadn’t been thoughts of Mia. No. They were of the grandmother.

A whisper of that child’s voice echoed in his head. He wanted to open his eyes, the ringing in his head prevented this. Spikes of pain shot behind his eyes down the back of his neck. Electric shocks, pain.

Then it left. With the grip it had over Ethan, it could force him into a kneel. Thankfully, it hadn’t.

The food. Ethan thought of how he had been force fed the ‘food’ that Marguerite made. All his stomach clung to since his last real meal was the grayed meat. The names on the fridge didn’t help comfort the relaxing mind of Ethan. If it was anything but animal meat, Ethan would find another thing to make himself throw up.

Swimming in his stomach, the infected food broke down easily. Digested and entering his bloodstream. An ache in his gut, mistaken for sickness, would be the reaction his intestine would have before it changed.

As Ethan stood up straight, ready to find Mia, he had been standing in the hallway. Behind him stood the room he had been standing in, the laundry room. It’s door closed shut, but not locked.

Returning to the dinning room, the grandmother hadn’t remained. Jack could have wheeled her away, or she had some strength left in her feeble arms.

Back in the hallway, a light danced around. Not as the flames did, a flashlight. A white light sweeping around.

Ethan inspected the source, it was a cop.

A relieved sigh and Ethan walked over to the barred window.

Attempting to explain the situation, the officer didn’t believe a thing Ethan said. As calmly as Ethan could, they came to the agreement to meet up in the garage.

Given nothing but a pocket knife by the officer, what marvelous help.

Ethan had suspected he knew where the garage was from his earlier hiding from Jack, he had been right.

What hadn’t been expected had been that Jack appeared behind the cop — murdering him in front of Ethan.

This lead to a massive fight breaking out in the garage. Obtaining the officer’s gun, driving the Baker car, fighting Jack who tried to kill him.

Ending after a massive explosion in the garage and Jack killing himself to prove a point.

Ethan assumed once that man’s brain sprayed over the floor and ceiling, it meant he would be dead now. If Ethan had listened, Jack gave hint that this wouldn’t be the end.

Finding the key to the next portion of the house, the new section of the home could be explored.

Inside the main hall, it felt much different to the other home that Ethan had been inside. This house, it must be the one had seen outside in the sunlight when he first arrived.

A shotgun, a room locked with scorpions hammered into the wood, staircases leading up to the second level, and much more. One being, another phone ringing near an abstract door with three indents.

Picking up the receiver, Ethan had not needed to wait.

“Did my daddy give you a hard time?” Zoe, it was her voice that spoke.

Ethan remained puzzled by the identity of this ‘Zoe’. Hearing her calling that man ‘daddy’ could mean that she was his daughter. Mia too called him the same thing though. Ethan hadn’t heard of a daughter from the videotapes either.

“That’s your father?” Ethan asked.

“He used to be.” Zoe sounded regretful to admit.

Ethan could just assume what he had been like before. Before this infection that swept through this house. Mia, she changed too.

“I’m sorry…but he’s, uh, he’s dead now.” Ethan told Zoe, truly believing this to be the case.

“You just might be able to pull this off.” Zoe answered back.

“What? Pull what off?” Ethan asked.

Electric stinging coursed behind his eye another time. Cold and slithering, he shivered.

“There’s something I need you to do, but I can’t explain it right now.” Zoe replied. “You may need some sort of keys to do it, but find a way out of the house. I’ll be in touch.”

Another click of the phone being hung up, Ethan placed down his own receiver. How can Zoe know exactly where he was in the house. Her house. She must be nearby, that being the only reason to explain it.

Tickles at the back of his neck, Ethan felt as though he were being watched.

His eyes swept around the room, not an object seemed out of place. Though, that would be difficult for him to say. He had never been here before, he didn’t know what it had used to look like. Especially with the dark corner of the room. But it hadn’t been a dark shadow, it appeared too short.

With that realization, shadows formed into a little girl. After realizing it, the girl ran up the flight of stairs she stood beside. Her shoes clicking softly on the steps as she ran away, Ethan fell back a step.

“Hey!” Ethan called out.

Opening and slamming of a door upstairs, another venture in the new section of the house begun.

Searching for the little girl on the second floor, Ethan had no sign to show where she went. Rooms were locked on this level just as the one below.

Another victim.

Inside rooms, behind pieces of furniture, not a hint of where she went had been found. The taxidermy animals nailed to the doors leaving a bad smell as he passed by. They weren’t done well, only by guess. They looked similar to what he had seen when he first arrived on the property. Strewn up in the trees with symbols, an disturbing resemblance.

No matter what they meant, Ethan needed to move on past the locked doors. With no way in breaking in or lockpicking inside, time would be running out soon for him.

Zoe had told Ethan to get out of the house. Ethan needed to find Mia first. But as it turned out, he couldn’t even find her. No room left unlocked had anything of note as to her whereabouts. He knew her to be still on the property, where.

Finding the dog heads that were slotted into the indented door went by swiftly. One hidden back on the other side of the house in a clock, and the second closed inside of a book. The third one had been tricky. All the rooms on the upper floor had been well searched, one more to go.

Gaining access to the basement, Ethan encountered a new threat. Black sludge formed into the figure of people and started attacking him. Long extending arms shot their claws at Ethan’s face and chest. They were dangerous — to add on — difficulty to put down.

The map that Ethan had showed that this home had a much bigger layout above and below ground. Rooms upon rooms for all sorts of things. An incinerator room and a morgue.

What the fuck
, Ethan thought to himself.

As a note had been left behind, the final dog head would be in the ‘dissection room’. That room was coming up if the map had been drawn correctly.

Finding the key for the room by solving a puzzle, the door easily and soundlessly opened.

Walking inside, Ethan experienced another nauseating wave of pain through his skull.

A child’s voice, the same as earlier, spoke. Far away but not too much so. It was close enough, in the same room.

“What? But, I’m your father.” Jack said. “Don’t you still need me?”

Ethan felt the strike of pain in the back of his eye.

‘Yes, but he will be my daddy now.’
A little girl’s voice spoke.

Her voice echoed in his head like waves crashing into themselves. A broken recording that sounded off.

‘Mommy and him are going to live here with us.’
Her voice, soft yet commanding.

“I know dear, but he don’t want to be here with us.” Jack said. “Look how he treated our fine hospitality. He don’t belong here.”

‘That’s not yours to decide.’
She said.

Whoever this little girl was, she was real. Her voice reacted different to Ethan’s head than listening to Jack — who now sounded hurt at the little girls implication.

‘Leave him alone.’
The little girl ordered.

“Yes, my dear. Anything for our little girl.” Jack answered back, hurt.

Ethan’s mind had been released. A hard exhale and Ethan fell to his knees. The voice of the little girl did not return nor did he hear her departure.

Rising up off of his knees, Ethan saw Jack slam the door out of the other side of the room — leaving behind the final dog head.

Reaching through the shelf, Ethan picked up the dog head. The last one. Through the gap, the police officer from the garage had been hung up against the wall. Deflated against the surface, as dead as when Ethan last saw him.

Ethan fled out from the basement level. Running back out the room, through the maze of hallways, back up the stairs to the ground floor. More of those monstrous beings climbed out of the black sludge that stuck to every corner he passed by. With the final dog head in hand, Ethan could go outside.

Turning left to walk towards to main hall.

The grandmother’s wheel chair faced away from Ethan, staring down to the end of the hall.

Freezing in his tracks, Ethan hadn’t heard her breathing. She remained ever still, giving no proof that she lived on in her chair. Walking around to face her, those eyes of hers met his. Staring through Ethan as her head faced forwards.

Ethan felt a pang of nausea. Dizziness, not of his own control. Complicated to describe, even more so to feel.

What could be described had been how it resembled long fingers combing Ethan’s scalp. Running slowly into the locks, the tugs of hair sent jolts of discomfort. Something crawled in between the grooves of his brain, wiggling closer to what it sought out.

The old lady’s face hadn’t changed. Ethan’s own twisted at the foreign sensation. Those same fingers that combed his scalp squirmed in his brain. Inching forward, deeper. Inside his head, Ethan saw a vision.

Nothing flashed before his eyes as before. For this time, it had been an idea. The concept of a potential family standing in front of a picture camera. Snapping a photograph, smiling down at it in a circle, and hanging it to the wall with their growing memories together.

A picnic out by the watery marsh nearby. Fishing in the ponds for frogs and dinner. Eating around a table with everyone smiling, happy, content.

It wouldn’t be only his and Mia’s face, it was many. The Bakers too were part of this image that formulated behind his eye. Not only them, but bigger. A house as big as this could fit more. Their family could grow, bigger. More people, more family, more. For her.

Ethan fell backwards on the floor with a shout. His head pounded as it knocked on the floor.

Had he been cracked open like a melon? It sure felt like it had.

Blood trickled out down his nose. A drop or two, nothing major.

Getting a hold on his pulsating nerve behind his eye, the grandmother sat staring down at Ethan. Her fogged eyes stared right at him. A finger twitched, the grandmother saw all of it.

Ethan stood up, walking over to the elderly woman.

Taking a close look at her face, her eyes stared right back.

Unease.

Ethan hadn’t felt it before, or he thought he hadn’t, but he felt it then. In that instance, Ethan for the first time felt on edge being before her. Wrinkles creasing over her skin, she lived a long life… She couldn’t have anything to do with what happened thus far…

Hells, Ethan thought to himself, she couldn’t even stand if she wanted to.

Ethan had once felt urgency to give aid to the lady. Now, not so much. He would help her, remaining in the belief that she was innocent in her own ways, to the extent that he helped Mia first.

That had been what made Ethan turn away to leave.

In the main hall, Ethan shut the door with a sagging his shoulders. Tension he had put up melted off his back to the floor.

Zoe too, Ethan remembered. She was trapped here too, as the other three. Ethan needed to get into contact with her, they needed to get out of here, fast.

Outside the newly unlocked door, Ethan stared out at the yard of the Baker estate. A camper sat in the center, two locked gates that extended away from the property. One of which had mysterious multi-colored lights threaded in a chained fence leading up to who knew where.

The fences were locked, too the door to the loud house blasting music, all that had been left to search was the camper.

Walking to the door, the lights had been left on. He hadn’t heard anyone inside, but saw a shadow flicker from behind the curtains that covered the windows. A slight rustle of someone brushing against them, the caravan awaited it’s visitor.

In front of the door, it had been left unlocked as Ethan took hold of the handle. Capturing the inhabitant off guard, rusty hinges of the caravan’s door squeaked announcing one’s entrance loud and clear. Putting oneself into harms way if he would be attacked, unfortunate if he were to be the cause of it.

Walking inside had been easy, nothing stopped him as Ethan stood fully inside. Hearing the click of a trigger, Ethan slowly turned his head to look to the right of him.

A woman, short brown hair, stared back at Ethan — clearly caught by surprise at his appearance.

“Ethan.” Zoe’s voice, it was her.

Recognition, Ethan connected the dots. She looked similar to the family, same structure as her brother. Uninjured — which meant little in retrospect.

“Zoe?” Ethan asked.

“I see you made it out of there.” Zoe lowered down a pistol she had been pointing directly at Ethan. “I saw you by the window, thought you were done for.”

Zoe walked over to one of the windows of the caravan that faced the house. Ethan didn’t know fully what she referenced by saying that. Vague in it’s nature, a lot hung over Ethan’s head.

“I was close to giving up on you — the two of you were talking for some time.” Zoe said.

Ethan thought about the grandmother, the old lady he met inside the house, he had an episode near her. She hadn’t tried talking to him, however.

“Right, about that.” Ethan started. “Your grandmother-”

“She is
not
my grandmother.” Zoe interrupted abruptly, then moving on to ask, “What was she telling you?”

Ethan opened his mouth to answer, he would have said that they hadn’t ever spoken to each other. One sided attempts to try to get a feel for the woman.

“It don’t matter. Don’t go out of your way to talk to her.” Zoe didn’t listen to Ethan, immediately brushing him off. “Stay far away from her if you know what’s good for you.”

Zoe took a long skeptical once over at Ethan. Uncertainty and distrust must be what she felt if he had to go on anything. Ethan hadn’t proven himself fully in her eyes. Though, he hadn’t done anything to be suspicious…had he?

“You’re the first I’ve ever seen make it this far.” Zoe commented, holstering her gun at her hip, her physique visually relaxing.

“So, what is it you need me to do? Is it gonna help me get outta here?” Ethan asked.

Zoe nodded her head.

“Yes, now listen carefully, Ethan.” Zoe proceeded to explain the situation that she and her family were in.

Everyone inside the house had been ‘contaminated’, that none of them are able to leave unless they wished to spread what were in them. Mia couldn’t leave the property, and neither could Zoe.

Ethan had been reminded over and over again that Mia trapped to the Baker family. An odd thought, seeing her act as normal and cohesive than the other members of Zoe’s family.

Zoe talked about a ‘serum’ as well. How it could get rid of the infection in everyone’s bodies, so long as they weren’t ‘too far gone’.

Zoe then went on to explain her suspicions on how her mother may have some hidden somewhere on their property. Ethan would need to go in there to retrieve it, by whatever means. They can leave once they obtain the serum. All four of them can leave.

Having no need to be hung up on, awaiting the audible
click
signifying that the conversation had reached it’s end didn’t occur. Ethan could ask one final question.

“What about you? How long has this been going on?” Ethan had been about to leave, but stopped to ask it.

The matter of the length of time all this had been going on passively lingered in his thoguhts. There were newspapers giving years, notes around the house proving that they had been alive and well up until recent events. It had been meant to be a simple question, a simple answer.

Zoe let out a heavy sigh, difficulty meeting Ethan’s gaze.

“Some years back, there was a flood.” Zoe begun, “My daddy went out there — only to come back with those two.”

Zoe appeared to be upset at the memory, making her mildly upset as she retold her memories. Ethan listened closely, awaiting for the other to explain while she took a breath.

“That, that was when all this started.” Zoe turned partially away from Ethan, staring at the walls of the caravan. “He took her under his wing, called her his second daughter. Imagine that.”

Ethan thought of Mia immediately at hearing this. Not a doubt in his mind, Mia was wonderful. Loving. Though she had left without any word, it would explain everything if she had been trapped here against her will.

“But she’s cruel. And listen to me, Ethan — she’s not what she seems to be.” Zoe stared at Ethan finally. “She’s not like how she used to be — she’s stronger with the family under her thumb. She wants you here, and she’s going to do everything she can to make you stay.”

Other forces tugged at his strings. Not yet taking control just yet, but shadowing the truth. A whisper as small as a bug in his ear told him that she — Zoe — ‘was very wrong’. His mind letting him believe that she was wrong because Mia was nothing like that.

All sense crumbling down, blood pressure rising.

“’Stay’?” Ethan asked, stepping in to defend his wife. “I’m here to save her. I’m not leaving here without her.”

Zoe had been taken aback, blinking as if she heard him announce that he could fly. Ethan would find the cure for Mia and the rest, and they would leave — together.

“What?” Zoe could say nothing else but that.

“I came here because she sent me this letter asking me to come here.” Ethan took a step closer, not fully acknowledging that he had done this.

“Ethan, what did this letter tell you?” Zoe straightened her back.

“I know she wants me here. I’m here to take her back home.” Ethan let out a weak half chuckle, without having any humor behind it. “She even told me that she wants to start a family.”

“Ethan. You’ve never met her before. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zoe reasoned, conflicted by the sharp change in Ethan’s attitude.

“Of course I know who she is!” Ethan caught himself from yelling.

Collecting himself, he felt he had been close to losing it. The conversation hadn’t been that serious, the smallest thing had ticked him off to that extent — this hadn’t been something Ethan struggled with before.

“We’ll find the serum and all four of us will leave here.” Ethan tried to explain, alternate forces listening to their conversation — the ear knew who Zoe spoke ill of.

“She can’t come with us! Were you not listening — she can’t be trusted.” Zoe exclaimed, growing more upset at the other.

“I didn’t come all this way to leave her behind. You said it yourself, we will give her the serum and we can leave.” Ethan explained.

“No, Ethan. The serum is for Mia and myself, we don’t have enough for Eveline.” Zoe said.

Eveline
, Ethan thought.

Who is she?

This had caused Ethan to be silenced. Taken out of his own knowledge of what he thought to be happening. The conversation the two had been having wasn’t what he had thought it was. Why would he think that.

Ethan had entirely brushed off the second survivor of this so-called flood. Another woman, in the house. Where.

“I mean, considering she’s the one behind all this — I don’t think there’s any way to save her.” Zoe said, annoyed that she had argued with someone who didn’t know what he was arguing for.

Zoe stood up from her seat, adjusting herself to stand tall. Picking up a photograph that sat on the cushion of the seats beside her, Zoe stared longingly at the photo.

Ethan couldn’t see what the photo showed, being too far away to see for himself. Sadness, the crinkle of sorrow in her brow.

Another question had come up with the newly found out information. Ethan planned to ask it until Zoe said.

“She deserves to rot alone here for all I care.”

Opening his mouth to ask, a shout came out. A piercing pain shot into his skull. Yanking on cords, nausea crawling up from his stomach, Ethan’s eyes stuttered shut.

Clutching at his head, digging his fingers into his head, it burned. Resisting the feeling, whatever that feeling may be that he felt, it made it all the more difficult to breathe. He had felt this before in the house. Other than in the last few hours, Ethan couldn’t pinpoint another time in his life that he had felt this before. Entirely foreign, absolutely terrifying to experience.

A total loss of control.

Ethan tried to fight it, sick to his stomach but he couldn’t stop it — until he could.

Falling down onto his knees, sharp pains that shot inside his skull ceased. Ending his torment, with a heavy sigh Ethan’s back hunched over. Head in his hands, clouds floated in them. Fogging up his consciousness — disturbing the natural order that he normal existed in. What had he done.

Opening his eyes, Ethan stared down at his hands. One held his pistol. Befuddled as he took to his memory to remember what he did, many things had gone on without his control.

First of which, as Ethan looked up, brain splatters were painted on the walls of the cozy caravan. Zoe — who had been standing in front of him — no longer stood where he saw her. She neither stood nor sat down on the cushioned seat. Eyes trailing downwards, lower to the ground he knelt on, searching for the source of the blood.

The lower he went, his heart begun to pound in his chest. His ears perking up, listening to the crickets outside the caravan’s door.

There, a puddle on the floor, lay Zoe’s body. A bullet hole right into the skull, a hole right above her left eyebrow. Her face etched in horror, that shocked expression staring up at the floor. Before she died, she saw what she would soon become.

Crawling over to her body, feeling her pulse, she was alive. A faint heart beat underneath his two fingers, miraculously, she would live.

Zoe had told Ethan that she and her family were infected with the same infection. She would come back, he wouldn’t need to worry about killing her.

In other matters, Eveline had achieved her first attempt of taking control.

Ethan could do nothing but go search through the old house Zoe had told him about. Search for the serum, come back to her alright again. He had seen the father and brother come back good as new. Ethan didn’t know what he set off, that she would soon go through the same turmoil he experienced and would continue to.

With the death of Zoe, the infection would fully consume her body. The long fight against Eveline crumbled down all because of one bullet destroying her brain. Repairing, molding it back together to create something better. Easier to control than have her fight against Eveline’s powers — her wants for the family.

Her body had already started in turning to the infection. Swallowing her insides, her memory, her personality. Zoe, would be herself — but born anew. Forced to live a role of the older sibling.

Ethan searched through the old house, the same that Mia had been videotaped trying to escape.

Down halls and through small passageways filled to the brim with insects, the mother Marguerite roamed. Her stench sticking to the walls and flies floating around his face.

When ready to search into the room behind the crow door, the door unlocked.

Half expecting to hear heavy footsteps running up behind him, checking over his shoulder, everything remained still.

Inside the room were dolls hung up from the ceiling. A phone on an end table by the door reminded Ethan of the urgency to acquire the serum. Positioned conveniently on a table had been an old fashioned brief case.

Opening the lid, inside held instructions on this ‘serum’ — and a mummified corpse of some sort of human. The notes described needed a ‘D-Series Cranial Nerve’ and a ‘D-Series peripheral nerve’. It asks for a head and an arm to craft the serum.

Ethan had been made aware of the serum being in the old house he stood in, this couldn’t be it.

Instead of returning out to the caravan, Ethan chose to go forward to explore the rest of the home. Rather to fully eliminate the potential location for one of them.

Walking down the hallway, stepping up the short stairs, searching a room with an out of tune piano. Down and through a doorway, a small room waited quietly. A scale with oil lamps on each end. Examining the device, oil lamps were hung up specifically to trigger something to the door beside the contraption.

The door was unlocked at first try. The two lamps hung on the scale were to unlock the next rooms.

Taking a once over the lamps, they resembled what Marguerite carried around on the videotape. What he had watched on the tape had the same details of the antique lamps.

Entering in past the door, silence deafened his confidence. Door shutting behind him, room pitch black, Ethan pulled out his flashlight.

The light grazed over the decaying room. A crocodile stuffed animal — stuffing poking out of the well loved plushie — stared at him. The floors had board games positioned about, closed. Soft colors on the wall washed out from time, peeling off the wall. Exposing what hid behind the wallpaper. Dark smudges and spots crawled up towards the ceiling and down. Carpet nailed into the floor held the dirt of passing feet over the years.

In the next room, similar items were layed around. Walls melting off the skin of the wallpaper that had been glued to it. Toys were hidden in this room, not touched for a long time. Couches, statues, decor hung up from the ceiling to imitate stars of the sky. Molding baby dolls stuffed in a cabinet, square cubes stacked on the floor.

This house had been used for a child, obviously. It stored memories of what — presumingly — Zoe had used, along with Luke. Passed down to a new child, a place where this child could grow up with all the toys from the children who grew up.

After this room, black sludge coated the floors to the ceiling. The same as from the basement from the other home, this mold ate at the toys along the floor. Swallowing them, consuming the gifts and dolls.

Reading the map of the old house he walked through, a ‘detention room’ was up ahead.

A flicker of his flashlight as it’s light landed on a cage with a chair inside. Bleach sat atop the cushions, the light went out.

“
Stay away.
” A child’s voice whispered in his ear.

A knife-like pain shot into his eyes. Keeling over, Ethan dropped his flashlight. The overwhelming feeling to turn back, get out of here, crashed into him.

Ethan felt himself fall back onto his rear, it felt different. That felt different from the pain in his head. Landing on his rear, it felt…real. The pain in his head felt as if it were a dream. As real as it feels to experience pain in a dream, it wasn’t real.

But Ethan wasn’t asleep. Eyes squeezed shut, groaning in discomfort, he focused on gaining back control.

At the instance the pain ceased, Ethan fell back onto the floor. The muscles in his body relaxing from the intensity of what happened.

Blearily opening his eyes, his flashlight was a few feet away from him. Ethan, sat upright, stared blankly at the distant glow. His body sat farther away from where he had dropped it to the ground. Having backed away in the midst of the headache that flashed behind his eyes.

His body had almost entirely backed up out of the hallway he had entered. Standing up off the ground with the help of the door frame he sat beside, Ethan walked back into the hallway.

Picking up the flashlight off the dusted floorboards, a wave crashed into his head. The sensation knocking Ethan’s head to the side, almost as if something — or someone — had knocked him on the side of the head. Shooting his hand up to feel the side of his head, no pain came to the skin.

The nerves in the side of his head imitated being hit, awaiting an answer to what had touched his skin except for himself seconds prior. His body reacted to being attacked, yet, he knew — although a wild recognition — that nothing
had
touched him.

Shining the light down the end of the short hall, a door waited for his curiosity. Metal door with bolts drilled in. Reinforced to keep everything out or in.

Twisting the knob, giving a light shove, creaks emitted from the hinges. Heavy, the door moved slowly at the light shove. As dark as the hallway, the furniture inside hid in the shadows. Concealing themselves from the horror they were with.

Inside, a singular bed and a doll house were left within. The sheets on the mattress were dirty with who knew what, thrown around as if someone woke up out of bed. The doll house had no small toys around to play-house with.

Opening the face of the toy house, a piece of paper with a childlike map of the room had been drawn. A secret door circled in red crayon.

Putting down the paper, Ethan went directly behind the bed. Facing the wall, a small outline of something at knee level had been exposed by the flashlight’s beam.

Kneeling down, Ethan pushed the wall. This revealed a hidden room inside.

Crawling in, the room had been little to note. Candles were lit atop a rug, a vase of flowers beside an empty chair positioned on top of a small platform, food presented on a dinner plate, all other sorts of items.

Ethan thought it to be a shrine, without anything to worship. This was the end of the rooms he had found. Flashing the light against the walls of the closet-like space, smooth walls held no wallpaper to them. Blank, empty, this was a crawl space for something.

Ethan shouted. Eyes bulging out of his head, bowing down, his other hand shakily reached up to touch his eyes. Something inside his skull reached out, pressing past the muscle and nerves — they moved towards Ethan’s eyes. Small and thin, snakes. They wanted out, digging past behind his eyes, getting closer to their goal.

Dropping to the floor, his flashlight temporarily flashed into his eyes as the other hand jerked upwards to his face. Burning his eyes, the light clattered to the floor beside him. Rolling on the floor, rolling away.

Ethan groaned in pain, pressing his palms to his eyes. It reached closer, they were close — just out of reach.

The perfected description appeared to Ethan. Fingers, small — childlike — fingers reached out to his eyes inside his skull. Slithering past veins and nerves, tugging.

Ethan thrashed his body to the side, his shoulder hitting the ground. Writhing on the floor, Ethan pressed his palms harder into his sockets. White circles bounced in his vision due to the pressure.

“
I told you to stay away.
” A girls voice, familiar — distantly.

Ethan shivered as he lowered his palms from his eyes. Looking back into empty room, the chair held a new resident. He knew her, having seen her in the house by the stairs running away from Ethan.

She — the little girl he saw clearly now — wasn’t smiling at him. She wasn’t amused or happy as she stared down at him. Loathing his presence before her. He hadn’t listened, so therefore, he needs to be taught.

Ethan held a certain caliber of the situation. He knew she was not simply an innocent little girl. She showed no sign of the infection, the mold not appearing anywhere upon her skin, and she looked perfectly healthy.

Crawling away slowly on his side, inching his way back from her grasp. Fingers were caressing the backs of his eyeballs. Tickling them, just about there.

Ethan turned away, back towards the exit of this room. Slamming his fist down on the wooden floor to pull himself closer to escape.

Wood clattering down, hitting the ground with a thud, caught Ethan’s attention.

Pausing for a terror-stricken moment, Ethan’s eyes slowly moved back to the other end of the room.

The chair lay on the floor, knocked off it’s legs — but no little girl. Not on the floor, not on the ceiling. The candles had been blown out, leaving Ethan alone in the darkness.

The flashlight that rolled away, Ethan remembered it. He needed it.

Backing up on the floor, the discomfort growing at the pokes-and-prods in his head, Ethan had to get out of there. Panting out of sheer panic, a giggle came over his head.

Taking a glance up, that little girl. Her face grinning maliciously at Ethan’s fearful expression, she was evil. Ethan knew this, he could see it. He had never seen a child wear such an insane mask.

“
Now we’ll be one big family.
” She said.

As Ethan stared up at her, hands grabbed at his shoulders.

Long black arms came from the direction of the adjoining room, they were the same that he had seen in the house’s basement. Gooey black sludge clung to what it touched of him, molding into the shape that needed to get a firm grasp of Ethan. Claws sinking into his shoulders, the short doorway hid the upper half of the monsters bodies. Hidden behind drywall, the flashlight’s flame shone the red meat mixed in with the black that covered it’s body.

The hands pulled Ethan out from the room in a swift yank. A snap, break, Ethan’s shoulder blade split in half.

Ethan’s head knocked into the back of the bed in the next room, fully returning back.

Grasping his shoulder, Ethan’s other hand pulled out his pistol and shot at one of the molded forms widening it’s jaw at him. Firing five bullets, the monster stumbled away.

Shuffling to his feet, the exit of the room would be the next best coarse of action. He couldn’t stay here. Running around the molded person, a second chased behind him. Two of the molded were stumbling towards Ethan who booked it to the hallway.

The metal door, remained open as he left it.

A squeaking of floor boards under his pounding feet, the little girl — before his very eyes — stood in the way of door frame.

She glared at Ethan, an amused smile wiped clean off.

“
Stop it.
” She said, the walls shaking around her.

The windows in the hallway behind her shook, panes of glass rattled in fear. A tiny sound of glass chipping, cracking behind the little girl.

Ethan noticed after one shattering piece of glass after the other, he had stopped. Standing still, shaking. Legs wanting to move forward, run past her out of this forsaken room.

No matter how much he willed his mind to listen to him, his control had been taken. One step at a time, building to a crescendo, parts of Ethan were being stripped out of him.

He needed Mia, get her out of here. The people in this house may be a lost cause, he did not know the measure in which they were stuck here. If the jerking of his nerves, pleading for control was to indicate — they may all be lost.

As the molded monsters behind Ethan too slowed approaching him, they were soon to reach him. In a matter of seconds, they could tear him limb-from-limb.

Pointing up his pistol, Ethan fought against gravity to try to point the other end at the monsters.

“
No!
” The little girl reverberating in his head.

His blood shaking at the booming command like he was a tuning fork. Ethan’s body listened to her. His hand went still, no amount of strength or willpower made himself budge.

“
We’re going to be a big, happy, family.
” The little girl said, silence consumed the room.

Leaving the room quiet, the slam of the metal door broke Ethan out of his trance.

The door had been closed, and Ethan heard a lock come from the doorknob.

Springing into action, Ethan rushed over — yanking on the handle. Pulling, pushing, twisting, the little girl locked the door on the other side.

Slamming his fist on the metal, pounding on the cold unforgiving surface — the room flickered into blackness. Nothingness swallowed the light that came from the flashlight he had left behind.

Turning around, the two molded monsters stood no longer before him. An outline in the dark that showed something’s place gave no indication of where they went.

Clicking, the flashlight on the other side of the bed flickered back on.

The lightbulb gaining life, strobing against the wall for a second. Ceased for beat, then came back on.

Ethan’s back to the door that had been slammed shut, he watched. The floorboards remained silent, no other items in the room could make noises. Except for Ethan’s rapid heartbeat pounding in his chest and the flickering flashlight behind the bed.

Dimming, the light was dying after each flicker of it returning back.

Oh how Ethan wanted to peel himself off of the metal door but he couldn’t, he had trapped himself here.

The light blinked. Dimming slowly to then die off. Turning on brightly after a moment in the dark, regaining battery life in it’s short duration of being off, then fading to black. Repeating. Repeating. Toying with him.

Ethan watched, pain crawling all over. The mysterious first aid bottle that he poured over his shoulder didn’t help the ache. Dumping the rest over his eyes, they both stung yet didn’t stop it’s earlier discomforts.

In the dark room, breathing heavily — trapped in his own mess the light would go out.

One.

Two..

Three…

His eyes blinked at the walls he had been staring at.

Black markings leaked out from the walls. Not bleeding, coming through. Appearing before the naked eye that had been hidden. Mad scribblings spread out wider around the room. Up the ceiling and under his feet.

Cursing to himself, the walls were alive — they were breathing.

Staring over at the bed, Ethan rose off the door in a plan to run towards his flashlight. He could find a way out — he had to. Mia, she still resided somewhere in this hellhole.

The moist air of Louisiana combed up his back, soaking his shirt. It was hot in here. The condensation on the walls, lack of windows. The black lines on the walls resembled something of mold. Black mold growing in the pattern of scrawlings.

The light went out.

All that had been left was Ethan’s breathing.

A squeak of rusty nails, the floor under his feet vibrated.

The flashlight clicked on for just a second, giving only a moment for Ethan to see one final glimpse of reality, he would never return.

A black claw of those monstrous beasts reached out towards Ethan, it had taken three fast steps in that single second that the light provided to him.

Ethan gasped, backed away in the blinding darkness.

What happened hadn’t been seen but felt.

Ethan’s head naturally knocked into the door behind him out of reflectively backing up too sharply. A wet hand clasped around his neck. Bringing his head away from the door, only to crush it back into it. Crunching the back of his already existing damaged skull.

Blood trickled down the back of his neck, dripping quickly down onto the ground.

Gargled moans came from Ethan, unintelligible. Chocked groans, forming words. Hands reaching up, knocking into the body of the monster.

The hand clenched around his throat, his mouth dropping open to gasp for air.

Long appendages slipped into his mouth.

As Ethan bit on them, they turned soft.

The fist around his throat lightened, the sludge in his mouth sliding to the back of his throat.

Gagging, Ethan attempted at spitting out what had slipped in his mouth. More came, forcing itself in. Slapping his hands at the monster’s arms, it didn’t let up.

Unending, smoothly sliding in. Down his throat.

The molded monster forced it’s arm down Ethan’s throat. Deeper. And deeper down, the sides of Ethan’s mouth tearing open. Blood mixing in with the blackness. It’s disintegrating body melting into Ethan’s wounds. Ripping open the sides of his mouth. Widening it, forcing more of it’s arm down his throat.

Ethan’s jaw popped open, gore bursting out from his torn open flesh. The tear beginning at the sides of his lips, traveling down to the end of his jawbone. Tendons hung on for dear life, Ethan choking on his blood that couldn’t be controlled — yet. Dripping in quickening succession down into his windpipes.

Jaw sliding down lower, the open wound dug down to his throat.

The monster forcefully fed Ethan more of the mold. Giving everything else he needed to fully submerge into his new role.

A loving husband. A more loving father. A house full with the happy family living within.

Mia beside him, smiling all while holding a little girl’s hand. The same he had seen a few times now, the very same who locked him in the ‘detention room’ for weeks. Her dark hair covering the pale skin of someone who had barely enjoyed the sun in years. He had yet to learn her name, he would — soon enough.

A warm meal at every dinner, sat around candle light with vinyls playing the tunes the elderly couple once loved. The same that had welcomed Ethan and Mia in with open arms. More than happy to feed them at their table, a meal just for them.

The houses were crumbling but they could fix them. Make them better than before.

Ethan, Jack, and Lucas could fix this old place by winter. They were strong and able, none of them were sick — nothing would ever hurt them ever again.

Calling to more people, whisking them off their feet to join the wondrous family. What more could a man ask for.

Mia, pregnant.

Ethan’s body convulsed against the door. The puddle of blood underneath his feet seeping out into the hallway.

But, after years of trying, Mia and Ethan would finally have one of their own. A child. Born out of the rot —
no
— the love that grew inside. Nothing could stop them, their child growing by each month that would tick by.

A crib made by Lucas, gifted after a pleasant conversation between him and Jack. Painted white by Zoe; not a speck of black mold —
no
— a speck of mud from the garden they started to plant outside.

Months with new visitors, passersby making a temporary stay in their newly renovated home. Given the same gift each of them were forced —
no
— had accepted from her.

Eveline. The brick and mortar, the foundation of their family.

She is loved.

Eveline gets everything she has ever wanted — dreamed of getting. She was always meant to be a little girl in their hearts.

Nothing would stop the family’s comfort to listen to the beck and call of their sweet, little Evie.

Mia would be due soon. They would prepare the bathroom for the exact moment, Marguerite would help in every way she could. Busy out in the garden tending to the parasites…the bugs that helped make their growing garden flourish. Growing more of that calming herb that Mia loved greatly — the same that she would go roam outside to take another smell of.

It brought her real…brought her more joy.

The day would come, and everything would go perfectly.

As beautiful as the purple flowers that bloomed on the stalks in their garden, no perfect word could fit what Mia held tightly in her arms.

He knew of a good name for a bundle of joy that she would love more than anything. Rosemary.

As Ethan saw the glimpse of his future, drowning as his lungs filled with his blood, his mind bent to her will — the false fantasy that would never be true. Ethan looked forward to this future, it’s idea.

Released, slumped down in the ground, Ethan had been left with a body filled fully in Eveline’s mold. Moving on the think of the potential of what their little girl could become with such a loving family.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Cold winter winds punched into Ethan Winters’ face while he traversed in between the forest trees of Romania.

A whirlwind of events lead Ethan to be standing in the ruins of a village. His wife shot dead before his eyes, in their own home, and his daughter taken by lords of the land. It all happened so fast, in the blink of an eye his entire world had been turned upside down — again.

An all too familiar feeling settled in his gut, he never wanted to experience anything like this again, after last time nearly got Mia and himself murdered. Now, trapped in the snug streets with snowy fences on either side of him, werewolf like beasts prowled the carcass of the village.

Not a moments peace had been granted to him since his arrival. Awaking outside of the transfer vehicle Chris Redfield had put his daughter and himself in, Ethan had been left to discover what had been done while he had been asleep.

Blood left behind, soaked warm inside of homes, hairy monsters with glowing white eyes taking eyefuls of Ethan, ready to take him for a snack.

The small amount of people Ethan had come across would be shocking to anyone. Ethan found a ‘safe haven’ for survivors of the village massacre, only to witness them all be murdered; all because, he had helped a father and daughter flee away from the Lycans that were after them all.

Captured by a man that can control metal, forced to run for his life if he wanted to live.

That man, Heisenberg, was different to the other lords.

Wearing small framed shades over his eyes and a dirty old hat atop his head, the over the glasses stare he gave to Ethan before cutting him loose shook him. He was amused, entertained, by Ethan’s company. His mood had shifted towards Ethan from when he had first encountered him. The gleam in the man’s eye could be mistaken for ‘hope’ if needed.

Whatever he had seen in Ethan had been short lived. Cutting his chains loose to let the father run for his life. Set up as a form of entertainment for all five of those people to do as they wish.

No matter that they had done horrible things to him, Ethan had not seen Rosemary — Mia and Ethan’s child — anywhere in the room he awoke in with the counsel of lords. Not one of her cries or the sight of her bedtime pajamas she had worn earlier that evening.

So, as Ethan stood in the center of the destroyed village, there could be no room for mistakes. He needed to save Rose.

Chris had failed all three of them. Mia was gone, murdered by Chris’ own people. Rosemary was missing, taken by a weird cult that took over this village. Ethan — himself — was trapped back in the same cycle.

The question of escaping this village would be unimaginable if he didn’t try to save her. He couldn’t leave here without his daughter, the last thing he had. Forget about their home, their lives that they had rebuilt together — the most important thing to Ethan was his baby, Rose.

He needed to take down all of the lords. They were the ones in control, and Rose had to be in that big castle.

Inside the Castle Dimitrescu were lavish paintings, antique pieces of furniture strewn about. The giant lady’s daughters taunted and haunted Ethan throughout his adventure in the castle. Down in the basements of the castle were a drop in luxury.

In it’s place of cushioned seats and chandelier with crystals were an array of torture devices — everywhere. In cells that were left unlocked, unmanned with any occupants, devices were carefully in their place. Covered in dried blood, some of the castle’s victims strung up from the ceiling to drain them of all their blood.

There were other experiments down here, victims turned into a sort of guard or servant to roam in the dark. Fighting Ethan, but being put out of their misery with simple firing of bullets.

Their skin were festered in markings, scars all over their flesh that had dirt hugging the wounds.

This lord, Lady Dimitrescu, had the appetite for agony. Making everything she came in contact with suffer immensely — all for her own joy and hunger. A cruel person such as her stalked the castle in search for Ethan. Trying to get a hold of him to lock him back up. String him back up to the ceiling, feed off of him while his daughter Rose needed him.

Her daughters were ordered to hunt him down too. They were much different from the lady herself. Not nearly as tall nor as dangerous — specifically in the cold.

Taking each of them down, one at a time, with the help of the open chilly air of the outdoors proved that he was stronger than they thought. All this to leave behind the Lady Dimitrescu alone, angry beyond belief at the realization that he had taken down each of her daughters.

In a brief yet terrifying instance, Ethan battled with Lady Dimitrescu in her final form. In the form of a dragon, she flew around her castle pillars in an attempt to kill him.

Amongst the fear that Ethan felt inside, forced to climb higher upwards to fight her, he had been brave — he could destroy her at last. She was nothing to be redeemed. Her torture of innocent lives that he had read in papers crumpled around the castle had confirmed this. She, Alcina Dimitrescu, would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.

Ethan had won, killing the woman himself with her wails vibrating the air around her. The stone flooring underneath his feet had wobbled, to then fall down to their presumable death. But Ethan hadn’t died — he lived to be able find a glowing yellow bottle where they had both collapsed into.

A wet specimen, frosted along the freezing class bottle, a white label with illegible handwriting due to said frost. Taking the bottle, Ethan could now go back to speak with the Duke — his most recent companion throughout his journey in the village. In what way that strange man lived on without coming across any Lycans or the lords, Ethan had formed his own theories in secret.

Ethan had retrieved a key, staring at the odd formation of feathers welded to the metal, it resembled a symbol he had seen before. There were many locked doors that the father couldn’t get past, this one, he knew it to lead him towards the next lord.

The pathway towards the mansion on he hill.

Through a field of tombstones as crows squawked in the distance, metal gates alongside massive vines lead Ethan down his path. Essentially, holding his hand to guide him towards a mansion beside a waterfall.

It’s gorgeous waters cascading down — creating a gentle mist like fog around the estate — unknowingly making the appearance of the mansion more off putting than welcoming. Far smaller than the Castle Dimitrescu, but larger than any of the homes in the village.

In order for Ethan to be able to enter the premises, he had to give up his family photo he kept in his possession. A singular photograph of Mia and their baby, Rosemary. Slid into the slot, given entry — now here he was.

The reminder of what he fought for had been taken, given up to the lord of the area, to be leaving Ethan by himself. No remembrance nor momento for him to latch onto for hope.

The mansion had been — nearly — entirely empty. Nothing in the drawers, upstairs with bare-bone rooms. Locked ones with pieces of furniture stacked up high to prevent anyone’s entry. Locking it up, concealing any other path than what had been laid out for him.

An elevator leading down. Ethan had nothing more to search for on the upper or main floor of the home. He would need to go down.

In the basement, doors were locked, rooms were vacant of anything living.

The mansion had hidden well it’s horrors it would show to it’s visitor.

Ethan, losing all his weapons — forced to play a treasure hunt game — a mystery had been crafted.

Mia’s ‘corpse’ and her voice echoed off the walls. Hallucinations danced over his vision. The tricks, the games, they only got in the way. Blasting past all obstacles he faced.

Climbing out of a well, a baby’s cries echoed. Angry and foreign. They weren’t any baby’s cries that he had ever heard before. Most certainly not his daughter’s.

Whatever amusement that this lord had for Ethan had not been enjoyed by either party. Clearly, this whole puzzle had been crafted to prevent the leaving of the father. Dragging it out, keeping him hostage while making the appearance of a horrific deformed baby crawl after him.

The lord had been no match for Ethan’s persistence. Breaking out from the nightmare basement in the blink of an eye. The baby’s laugh-filled cries pierced his eardrums. Such an alien sound, inhuman sounds imitating Rose.

His head felt funny, airy, dizzy. A film had been over his eyes for some time, it clouded his thoughts of his child, trying to make him forget about her. There could be no way.

Returning back to the main level of the home, dolls were sat all along the walls. Sat on furniture. They were everywhere they hadn’t been before. Laughter, he could hear it. Mocking, tickled, enjoying the confusion that the father felt as he sought out the lord.

He had yet to see her, her painting on the wall did not match who he had seen in that circle of lords; she wore an entire gown with a black veil. She kept out of sight, yet here her doll — Angie — sat on the floor unattended.

Stabbing the doll, cracking open her face little-by-little, blood oozed down his hand. That parasite, living inside the doll, floated out of the room, escaping to another section of the mansion.

Finding the doll in another room, Ethan stabbed it a final time. The film over his eyes disappeared and in front of him, the woman from the painting.

Except, her right side of her face had a massive abscess — no — it was her own face, but it had been deformed. That would explain why she wore her veil.

The picture he had given up to come inside her home, it lay there on the floor.

Picking up the dusty picture of his family, turning it over, it had been cleaned. Before he had placed it in for sacrifice to enter the mansion, he had dirt and muck stuck to the back — covering up the message that Mia had written.

Mia, her delicate swirls of her cursive swimming over the white surface, the last thing that he had left of her. He remembered reading it for the first time, and he would keep it’s promise.

“Take care of our little Rose.”
Mia had written.

Chris, he had taken it all away. If he hadn’t showed up, they would be asleep in their bedrooms at this time. They would all be sleeping soundly and dreaming of the next day’s adventures. Not a question in mind if they would be trapped in another situation like the Baker estate — a time way before Rosemary.

Miss Beneviento hadn’t so much as fought back, whatever powers she had — the other lords making it clear what they were capable of — she couldn’t use it anymore. The illusions in the basement of the baby and Mia, had she been the one to influence this.

She had tried to force him to stay, out of fear, prolonging his pathway to save his daughter. Cut up into four pieces, Rose — the light of his life — was still alive in this disturbing form within the jars.

Regardless of the struggles that the lords strung up to guard their respective piece of his daughter, Ethan had the strength of a parent to suffer through it.

Moreau — the next lord to come across Ethan’s path — had been as pathetic when he first met him as he turned out to be. Evolving into a distorted version of himself. A massive sea monster, spraying liquid acid up into the cloud to rain down to melt off Ethan’s clothes. Light burns, flesh wounds Ethan brushed aside.

The monstrous beast he had become in order to please Mother Miranda had been proven — once again — to be no match for Ethan. Shooting down the beast, his aquatic eyes melting along his back. Bursting, popping, dripping off — then his body disintegrating to ash. Just as the rest, he had tried to keep Rose from getting away.

Inside the residence — home? — of Moreau, Ethan stood on the other side from where he had previously only seen into. Earlier, when he had reached between the planks of wood to take back his daughter, trapped in a prison, now Ethan stood where Moreau had when he took the flask. The pustulous walls now evaporated, likely upon the man’s death.

Notes and scribblings on pieces of wet paper, the man had lost his mind.

The television came to life. Heisenberg, the man that had captured him at the beginning, he appeared on Moreau’s screen.

He told Ethan where the last flask was hidden. Saying exactly where he needed to go. Telling Ethan to go ‘fetch’ his daughter, in a manner of speaking.

Why.

Was it a trap.

The last of the lords, he couldn’t be a fool. Yet, all the rest showed to be no match to Ethan’s will.

Leaving the area, Ethan still kept the crank in his possession that he found in the Reservoir.

Immediately upon leaving the Reservoir, a massive painted sign had been left behind. It could be for, none other, than Ethan. Written by Heisenberg, there could be no other. The man could control metal. If that hadn’t convinced the father enough, down the road, Ethan saw more pointing back towards the cemetery — just as the lord had said on the television.

What Heisenberg had failed to mention had been that he left it under guard. Monsters roamed around the flask, preparing to fight to the death. No matter. Ethan shot them all down, he was so close.

The last, final part of his daughter had been retrieved. All of her. In parts, but she was there, in his arms. She may not be breathing, but her father loved her. He would put her back together, in any way he could.

It had been hours since he held her, in this form, even her crystallized limbs couldn’t bring a smile to his face. Was she scared? Could she feel anything at all?

He would imagine no, and that was what he truly wanted for her. If she were to feel in this condition, the horror inflicted to his daughter may never be repaired — no matter if she were put back together.

Chris.

Ethan thought of that man. He had too been at the Baker resident years prior. He had been the first of the agents to speak to him. Helping him up off the mud and introducing himself with a kind smile. He had been part of an organization that had been planning on raiding the resident for some time.

Ethan could remember it now, Chris had told them that they had their eyes on the family for years. Researching and trying to get into contact with the son of the family — Lucas — to gain more information on the happenings.

They would learn that the son had been truly insane. He didn’t want a cure, he was powerful with the mold infection running in him. He chose to stay like that, he was mad.

Chris and his people, they only cared about the cargo — the mold. They needed to extract the mold and research it for further use on it’s origin. They saw what they were doing, and did nothing.

Back to the present, Chris and his people had done it again. They cared little for the lives around them, but for their own mission. Crashing into his home and exterminating his wife. Thankfully, Rose hadn’t been down in the living room any longer to witness it.

Ethan saw Chris before he had been knocked out by one of Chris’ own. He looked cold, unaffected by what he had done. All while taking his daughter, refusing to let him look, let alone be near her. He had changed from the officer that he had met years ago.

He had been helpful, kind, explained everything he could. Said to Ethan that they were to be kept safe from harm, kept under watch in their new lives in Europe. Told Ethan himself that the people should be let known of what was going on, that it was in their best interest to keep everyone informed when danger approached.

Then he came and shattered it all. His family, destroyed.

In Ethan’s arms, his daughter would never let out another cry — all because of Chris.

Although Ethan had been part of this mess, he did so unknowingly.

It had been then, that Ethan realized that nobody trusted Ethan. They would always treat him differently, he hadn’t been at the Baker residence long. He barely spent any time there at all, not in comparison to Mia — who continued on to be tested for the mold infestation for years to come. Even their daughter Rose, she was being verified for anything in her system too.

Ethan, they all left him alone. They all believed that he had nothing of concern to the case. It only mattered to him because he was the husband — a tag along. He didn’t need to be made aware of this, they could leave him out.

Not even Mia knew that they were coming it would seem. Being shot down, she hardly been given the time of day to be explained why they would do this.

The mold.

The only thing that came to Ethan, it would explain a lot. The test, one must have come back to tell them that she was a danger. And after that, they didn’t give the decency to tell Ethan that Rose could be in the crossfires. Not a thing.

So as Ethan knelt in the room holding his daughter, heartache hugged him closely. Consoling the father, he had been dealt a hand he had no choice but to play. He needed to keep going, no matter how much grief wailed onto him.

The final piece, and Ethan could now go to the altar.

Beside the Duke, Ethan took special care sliding in the pieces of Rose. Clicking into place, Ethan had to then transfer the giant chalice over west to the Ceremony site.

Something had caught his eye. As Ethan approached the dias he needed to place down his daughter, he saw to his side the drawbridge that had been trapped upright.

Remembering, it needed a crank to bring it down — which he had since retrieved back in the Reservoir.

After placing down his daughter on the dias, a giant bridge on ahead rose up to form. The ground underneath his feet rumbled, indicating that it would be moving down, but other curiosities made themselves more intriguing than Heisenberg.

Leaping off of the platform that the chalice stood on, it went back to it’s still posture. Pressure activated, it would move once he stepped back on. He would return.

Turning back, Ethan went on towards the drawbridge that needed this newly acquired crank.

Using the crank, the bridge fell down to give path to a small boat. Allowing Ethan to go either north or south of the slim stream of water. One last stop before visiting Heisenberg to hear what he wanted.

Sailing the waters, no monsters popped up. No screams or glowing white eyes staring into his soul. A peaceful sailing ride towards a cave.

Climbing out of the boat, Ethan could see up ahead there along the rocky surface, a cave. Dark, perhaps empty of anything. He would take a look, see what he may find out here.

The rush to sprint through every section of this cursed village ceased the moment he held her pieces and placed them in the ceremony site. For the first time in what felt like forever, he could think and find more answers.

Within the humid walls of the tunnel he entered into, darkness welcomed him like an old friend. That smell, far too familiar for his liking, held a spot in the far recesses of his mind. Reaching out to expand on what he meant by this, he too turned on his flashlight.

Flickering on, it illuminated what he had expected initially. A cave.

Although, this one he sensed a maddening familiarity. Roots, curved up and out of the dirt. Mud, sticking to everything. That wetness in the air, sticking to his lungs. On the tip of his tongue, what had it been.

As Ethan walked forward, taking careful steps over rocks from tripping him, to ducking underneath others threatening to squeeze his head, he arrived. The roots he approached broke away at the ledge of the cave, falling down into depths unknown.

Splashes of water rung in the echoing space.

Pointing the light’s beam around the area, Ethan had to take a step back at what he saw.

A massive black…thing, hung from the ceiling. Tendrils that resembled trees danced around — partially obscuring this ‘thing’ — but around the roots, Ethan could see it. Almost like roots he walked past, the shape in which it resembled had taken form in his head. He couldn’t unsee it once it had been thought. It looked like a fetus. A baby.

Ethan had seen so many babies. In different shapes and sized in the last few hours, could he have lost his mind…?

Looking away, not wishing to stare at it — was it watching him? — Ethan saw light coming not from his flashlight, but another source.

Walking over to what he saw laying on the dirty ground, all around it were explosives of all kinds. For all he expected to be in this cave, he struggled to make sense of what he saw in front of him.

Squatting down to the ground, Ethan saw it was a laptop.

He had found one earlier among the homes of the village inside a church. He hadn’t thought much of it, other than, people were around, and very much alive. Just as Ethan fought to stay alive, others infiltrated the village after him. Although, this time with purpose. Opposite of what Ethan had been forced into.

The previous computer had written about Ethan and Rose, this laptop said something different.

“The mold”
was all that stood out. That was all it needed.

It took moments for him to move past that frightful word. They escaped it, they had to have.

Ethan thought to himself, Mia. She must have still been infected. Their baby, Rose. Was Rosemary infected too?

Ethan had heard stories of passing on diseases onto their offspring, had this been the case? Had she kept some of the mold in her body.

It said in the notes that the mold, the one that he saw moments prior, has a match of 99.5% to the mold from the Baker estate. That the same mold from the residence came from here, somehow.

No matter. The notes say that the mold — right before him — was a data base for all the infected. It held everything. It spoke of a ‘network of consciousnesses’ if they were to use the information from the Baker estate situation. Later on, it says that network would be linked to this one — inside the village. The same one that is said to run all throughout the village’s underbelly. Underground like an infection, spreading out it’s roots.

Mia, Ethan thought of her, his wonderful wife.

Pains wracked through his heart.

In the assumption that Ethan had come to himself, Mia could have been infected. Therefore, she could still — in a distorted sense — still be here. In the memory bank that hung from the ceiling, resembling a fetus.

Ethan remembered the Baker estate, as much as he loathed it. Once he had killed Eveline, everything died. Her connection to the mold that she could control on her own freewill. It severed the line, letting Chris and his team destroy the last of what had been left there.

Staring up at mold mass, it held everything and everyone inside. Knowledge of different consciousnesses mixed in the bunch with others.

Ethan thought if there could be a way to save Mia. If the notes he had read on the laptop screen had been true, part of her could be in there — somewhere out of reach to him.

If this dies, Mia would be lost forever. If this dies — going on with the same assumption he arrived at — so would Rose. Her broken apart form, crystallized, could be trapped in there.

Chris, Ethan continued on with the thought, he Mia killed. There had to be, in Ethan’s mind, proof that Mia was infected with the mold.

They would kill Rose just as they killed Mia, and he had left her at the altar.

Ethan bolted out of the cave. Shimmying out between the cold stones of the cave’s entrance, a sudden rush filled him in.

Ethan sailed back up to river as fast as the motor would let him.

Back on land, Ethan spared no time in running back to the chalice of his daughter. No one had touched her, she was alright.

Touching his hands along the emblems of the lords’ symbols, Rose would not live long. The platform begun to lower down as an elevator as Ethan rested his head atop the chalice. Closing his eyes and breathing heavily.

There could never be an escape.

They will take Rosemary away from him, they will take her away to cut, poke, and prod. She would be alone, and there was nothing Ethan could do to stop it.

Nothing that Ethan could do. That wasn’t true. Here he stood, defeated three out of the four lords, soon to go after this Mother Miranda.

Ethan, there wasn’t
nothing
that he could do.

At the bottom of the platform, a light up ahead showed his way out.

Outside, it was bright. The snowstorm that swallowed up his footprints were settled. The sun could been seen through the clouds.

A field in front of Ethan awaited him, a factory puffing smoke up into the atmosphere sat in the center.

The chalice couldn’t be taken with him. Left behind, Ethan sought forth what this final lord wanted from him.

A mega speaker let forth the boom of the lord Heisenberg’s voice, blasting over the field that Ethan traversed. Dead yellowed grass stood tall amongst the snow, rusted and broken metal parts lay to waste on the yard.

The building, though impressive in height, looked run down. Not something that any of the other lords had. Even Moreau had decency of it appearing as a sort of home. A factory that this lord resided in had come across as a decayed building one could find in the outskirts of any small town.

This, out of all the places that this lord could have chosen, chose a messily repaired building. Scraps of metal bolted to the sidings of the building, covering holes that had to have come with age. Little had been welcoming about this place, the mountains appeared warmer that existed behind the structure than the place itself.

Ethan needed to go inside, against his better wishes.

Letting himself in without an issue, nobody greeted him with a knife to the face.

The metal controlling freak that wanted Ethan’s presence here so desperately hadn’t made himself known, not yet.

Not until Ethan pushed aside a makeshift curtain covering photographs of everyone from the village. In this small room, it actually felt lived in. Shelves holding possessions of little use to himself and tools strewn about. The photographs on the wall, they held a different story.

The faces of the other lords had large red ‘x’s crossing out their faces. This Mother Miranda, a massive poster, sat in the center. Off to the right of the bullet board, there were other photos. Chris’ photograph, Mia’s, and Rosemary. Intimate photos. They were kept in the photo album upstairs of their home. On the left, a map with the words ‘BSAA’ had been written in the same red marker along with what Ethan assumed to be ‘coming’.

That company, Ethan knew that name. They were the ones who rescued Mia and himself from the Baker residence. The ones that were responsible for destroying the mold, the extermination of the threat.

This map, BSAA, the photographs of the deceased lords. This Heisenberg, he knew a lot more than Ethan did. An active knowledge of who came and went, this was already bad. It was about to get worse.

Behind Ethan, Heisenberg disrupted the quiet.

“Truth hurts, don’t it?” Ethan spun around, pointing his handgun at the man’s face.

Heisenberg, the massive hammer, that he had wielded earlier at their first meeting, noticeably not present. Not on his back, not in the room, the man came alone — smoking a cigar at that.

“Let me guess.” Heisenberg let out a puff of smoke. “You’re thinking take me out like the others, and then you get to go and save Rose, right?”

At the mention of Rose, Ethan had become defensive. The photo of her, on the wall right behind him, what would he want with her.

“I’m healing my daughter.” Ethan near shouted.

Heisenberg sighed, exhausted by another roadblock perhaps.

“Look, y-you’ve got this all wrong,” Heisenberg continued, without interruption of one of his ‘soldats’, “I want your kid up and healthy, just like you… I’ve got some plans of my own. And if you’ll just listen to me, I promise it will be worth your while than blasting your way out of here.”

Ethan stared at the man, not sure why the other was haggling. He said that he wanted Rose alive, the other lords hadn’t expressed the same attitude. If anything, they were reluctant to get Rose’s part back together.

“I don’t want to be part of your fucking plans with my daughter.” Ethan concentrated, not trusting the lord’s words at first.

“Oh, but Ethan. I’m much more on your side than against yours.” Heisenberg took smooth, short steps towards Ethan, “If you’ll listen to me, let me explain.”

Ethan said nothing, staying silent and waiting for what he would say. It had given the window for the lord to know that he was in.

“That Mother Miranda, she’s the one you need to be worried about here.” Heisenberg smiled.

“How do I know that I can trust you?” Ethan asked, skeptical while keeping his gun pointed at the man.

Ethan knew that if he could control most metal, he could likely whisk his handgun out of his grasp.

What Heisenberg had chosen to do, he held up his hand in surrender. If had meant to be a joke, Ethan found is unamusing. Clicking his tongue, Heisenberg

“Come on, Ethan. You passed the test, you have all your Rose’s.” Heisenberg referred to ‘giving’ his Rose bottle to Ethan, “Is that enough for you?”

In the matter of curiosity, Ethan thought more on it. Questioned if this madman could be of any real use to Ethan to get out of here with Rose, alive.

“Then, talk.” Ethan chose.

Heisenberg’s shoulders relaxed, hands falling to let his arms be open as if in an accepting hug.

“Alright.” Heisenberg said gruffly.

Walking over to the wall, Heisenberg pulled out a chair and setting it on the floor facing the bullet board.

“Take a seat.” He told the father.

Reluctantly, Ethan slowly sat down in the chair. Keeping his gun in hand, prepared for anything that could go wrong, but not pointing it at the other man.

“Listen, Ethan. You’re being played.” Heisenberg said in a matter as if to say it were obvious.

“What are you talking about?” Ethan asked, unaware.

Heisenberg then proceeded to name each of the deceased lord’s names in a mockery of what they were, using a knife to point at each of them.

“Don’t you get it?” Heisenberg asked as a teacher would to a student, “It’s a test, to see if you’re strong enough to be part of Miranda’s family.”

“I don’t WANT to be part of Miranda’s family-” Ethan started, yet had been interrupted abruptly.

“Neither did I! But here we are.” Heisenberg shouted back, cutting off Ethan.

After a moment to calm his breathing, the room returned to it’s tense air.

“And I’m next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain!” The man clearly irritated, “Well, fuck that!”

A swipe of his hand and a carving into the wall cut Mother Miranda’s face in half.

“I don’t give a damn about your personal issues.” Ethan pointed out, “I just want to fix my daughter!”

Heisenberg calmed, a smirk appearing on his face. A slow walk towards Ethan’s sat self, the other took off his sunglasses.

“So do I!” His eyes, they were old — worn and seen better days, “Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is?”

Heisenberg said, he hadn’t said he would be willing to kill Rose. He wanted her, alive. An opposite that Ethan had arrived to with Chris — and now the BSAA on top of it.

“Even Miranda’s scared of her.” Heisenberg explained.

Her, scared of a baby… Imagine what the BSAA would do.

“She wants to use your kid too — and soon, she’ll get exactly what she wants.” Heisenberg used his knife from before to point at the map, right onto the Ceremony site, “But, not if we do it first.”

Heisenberg, his entire plan, had been to use Rose before Miranda could.

“What the fuck, is that what your plan is?” Ethan wanted to be angrier, starting to stand up, but Heisenberg placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down, I haven’t even said what the plan will be.” Heisenberg calmed Ethan to sit back down.

Heisenberg turned away, continuing the theatrics of his grand explanation.

“Your daughter, there’s something special about her.” Heisenberg spoke slowly, trying to find the right words, “There’s special about you too. Miranda, she wants you alive to get rid of us — right, she sees your potential.”

Without his sunglasses, Ethan could see the intensity of his eyes staring at him. Trying to explain his plan that wouldn’t upset the father. Set him off his rocker and destroy his idea of this ‘deal’.

“And she’s using it, why not turn the tables on Miranda.” Heisenberg said, “Use yourself as a distraction while your kid squishes her to paste. That bitch will never see it coming.”

Ethan stared at the man, confused. He would still be using his daughter, and he tried to make it sound like it wouldn’t be it’s main focus.

“I’m not using my daughter for your sick plans.” Ethan caught on that Heisenberg
would
be using his daughter for his own whims. He couldn’t let her be taken away, not again.

“Sick? Come now, Ethan, this is the least of your concerns.” Heisenberg spoke, “She’s going to turn your kid into her personal toy. All
we
need to do is have you put her back together first.”

“What?” Ethan asked.

“Rose, you put your kid back together, and we bring Miranda into our trap.” Heisenberg gave up trying to conceal the fact that Rose was the major part of this idea of his.

Then on second thought, Heisenberg had been right. Rose sat in the center of all of this. To remove her totally out of this would be impossible, as it were. Miranda wanted her for herself, Heisenberg wanted her only to destroy Miranda. Heisenberg wanted out of that ‘family’ while Miranda wanted Rose for a new one.

“I don’t know what you want me to do while all this goes down.” Ethan shook his head, not believing that one of the lords was making some sense.

“Oh! I said I have something worth your while.” Heisenberg said sincerely, he had made something just for Ethan if he had to go off of anything “All you have to do, is follow me.”

Ethan stared blankly at the lord. He didn’t have anything else he wanted to say, no rebuttal. Rose trapped in the situation he put her in, Miranda put this all in the worst position. Ethan, hearing only from one angle, more times than he could could, assumed this to be the only way out.

With the added help of Heisenberg, he may even provide aid in getting rid of the BSAA and Chris… Chris. He was here too. He wasn’t happy the last time they had come across each other. Not expecting a warm embrace, but more than a threat-filled greeting.

One of the things that Heisenberg could do in return, he could protect them. Mad to assume that this madman would help him, but he said he would make it worth his while.

“What do you say?” Heisenberg asked, if he were sat down he would be on the edge of his seat.

Ethan hesitated to answer. His mouth opening to ask something, but choosing to keep shut. Pondering on what else could be done. Rose. Oh, Rose. He had been stuck in quite the predicament.

“Let me put it this way for you, papa. That kid of yours, it’s going to be used as a weapon whether you like it or not.” Ethan stared back into the eyes of Heisenberg.

That had been the most truthful thing that had ever been said to Ethan, and he knew it.

As regretful as it was, Ethan may have no choice.

“If it’s not by us, it’s that bitch Miranda.” Ethan’s ears perked.

Ethan could get out of here, he could go back to the chalice and get his Rose back together — alone.

“I could just kill you. Save Rose by myself.” Ethan combated.

Heisenberg threw a hand up dismissively, waving it at Ethan.

“You could try, go ahead. But you never know what the world out there,” Heisenberg point to the door Ethan and him both entered through, “is willing to do to get their hands on powers that kid’s got.”

The mold that Ethan had correctly assumed to be inside his daughter, connected to a system running below the village. All throughout the streets, homes, even where they stood now. It could reach far and wide. Far enough to be in Louisiana.

“Miranda, she’s powerful, but together… Well, I think we can get along just fine.” Heisenberg tapped his finger, waiting anxiously for Ethan.

Perplexed, Ethan saw two options. Three if he were to kill the lord now and deal with Miranda alone. He might be able to find a way, maybe. There couldn’t be only this and that.

Unfortunately, Miranda or Heisenberg would truly be the only two options. If they waited long enough, the BSAA could arrive. See Rose as a threat, exterminate.

“So, I’ll ask again. What do you say, Ethan?” Heisenberg leaned over to be eye level with Ethan.

Ethan saw in those wrinkled eyes a window. He might be able to live through this, Rose in his arms.

“I don’t want to use Rose as a weapon.” Ethan spoke weakly, he had no other words to be said.

“I know, and neither do I.” Ethan hadn’t taken note to the dishonest tone in Heisenberg’s voice, too focused on the safety of his child. “We’ll just need her to take out Miranda. It will be easy enough to take her down.”

Worn out, the stress of a parent’s love had been stretched thin. He soon would break in half, if just hoped he made the right decision.

“Only,” Ethan spoke, “only if I have your word that, when she’s dead, you’ll help Rose and myself get out of here.”

Heisenberg raised an eyebrows, having not prepared for such a request. Following after came a laugh, loud and piercing to Ethan’s ears.

“Alright. Sure, whatever you say.” Heisenberg stood tall, holding out his hand to Ethan to shake.

Already regretting the decision, Ethan shook the other’s dirty hand.

Their agreement meant that they would, temporarily, be joining forces. Heisenberg explained where Miranda would be at that moment, aided with a television screen with a video feed that Heisenberg kept in another room.

On the screens, people were decimated mercilessly by her in clear view. Unknown individuals, the last of the villagers or Chris and his people, if Ethan needed to guess. Her position had been neither near them or Rose, they can go to save Rose.

Heisenberg mentioned that he had something that Ethan could use, crafted it just for this purpose.

Ethan, ready to shoot the lord in the back when the tides turned, followed behind the man down below. Deep under the earth, past all the basements that Heisenberg said to ‘not worry about’.

A factory alright. On hooks, ‘soldats’ were being transfered all about. Heisenberg explained how it was his mission to take down Miranda by any means, that included making as many soldiers that he could. Preparing for the ultimate battle, and having fun along the way there.

Down all the way to the last basement, Heisenberg lead Ethan excitedly to the next room. Water flowed down there, collecting mold to prosper. A chill, freezing air rose under Ethan’s feet as spits of water sprayed them both.

Heisenberg lead the way from room to room to arrive to where he had been wishing to show Ethan.

Before them both, in the center of a garage-like room, a killing machine. Made entirely out of metals that Heisenberg couldn’t manipulate. Welded together with a machine gun strapped to an arm, a rocket launcher on the other arm.

Made to show his intentions, Heisenberg gave control to Ethan that he couldn’t take.

It appeared to Ethan to be hurriedly put together, but fully functional.

The ‘soldats’ up the levels were lively corpses — a mad genius that Ethan had only heard about from news articles referencing something similar. The 90’s were a weird time. Thankfully, Ethan hadn’t been anywhere near that ‘Raccoon City’.

Ethan didn’t like the idea of the dead being reanimated. Reasons could be given until dawn, but did he really need to name each of them.

Primarily, it showed the skills that his newly acquainted companion was capable of.

Climbing onto the kill machine, Ethan sat on the chair that presented the levers to the driver. Heisenberg gave a few strong punches to his creation, he looked like a father himself — proud of what he had made.

They both needed to act fast, get to Rose swiftly without setting off alarms that they were working together. Not only that, but against Miranda.

Among the clanks of metal that Heisenberg whirled around them both to create the pathway to the elevator, Ethan swore he heard something else. He hadn’t heard it upon entering the room, his mind lingering in the kerfuffle that was the situation he had been tossed in.

On the passing second, it proved to be a skill to remain calm. Heisenberg spoke leisurely, straight to the point, but Ethan couldn’t stand how much time was being wasted.

Looking over his shoulder towards the faint sound, into the dark shadows behind pieces of furniture, he thought he saw a shadow move. A rustle of dirt, maybe he imagined it. If he hadn’t been dragged out of his thoughts, Ethan would have come to the conclusion that a certain someone had found his way down there too.

Time was of the essence, doors squeaked open for the elevator back above ground. Driving the machine proved to be easy enough to learn, the entire body of Heisenberg’s creation drove onto the elevator easily with minor corrections.

Heisenberg appeared to Ethan to be pleased. Spitting as he would talk about how Miranda would get what’s been coming to her. As it turned out, Heisenberg wanted to leave the family too.

Ethan thought to himself, Heisenberg wasn’t a great person. He hurt people regardless of orders. From what he had seen, villager’s bodies were defiled after their death for his convenience. Ethan couldn’t sympathize much with the man, he wanted the same as Miranda — to kill off the other lords so that they could get to Rose.

Thankfully, Heisenberg made a promise. Making it loud and clear that he would only need her to kill Miranda, after that, he would be free, doing whatever he pleased to do. There were many corpses now more than before with everything and everyone killing the straggling villagers.

Back into the cool winter’s air, a soft breeze over the field of the factory’s land, they were ready.

Heisenberg did not change, he needed not to morph yet like some of the lords’ before him had.

Miranda — last they had seen — roamed the remnants of the reservoir that Ethan had left behind not long ago.

They would need to get to Rose, fast.

As they quickly made their way over to the chalice of his daughter, Ethan began to wonder how he would begin at putting her back together.

Nearing her body, Ethan looked over at Heisenberg who stood beside him, letting the vehicle drive them both over. He hadn’t said how they would put her back together. Did they need blood, cults love blood — he thought to himself. Did Heisenberg know how to do it, could he be truly trusted with such a delicate matter.

Parking the killing machine, Heisenberg hopped down onto the snow. Slowly walking ahead towards the chalice.

Ethan looked around the area, waiting to be jumped by whoever pleased. They were out in the open, vulnerable to any attacks. Trees were few and far between, they had little for shelter.

Jumping off of the machine himself, a distinct crunch of snow crumpled under his boots. Following after the lord, Ethan kept his handgun at the ready, prepared for Miranda’s presence if she were to come.

When they arrived at the chalice, they both — simultaneously — stared at each other.

“It’s all yours, Ethan.” Heisenberg waved with his hand.

“What?” Ethan stared back at the chalice, dumbfounded, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Heisenberg looked Ethan up and down, confused. He appeared to be unprepared for the answer.

“You’re the ones who ripped her apart, put her back together!” Ethan shouted at the man.

Heisenberg didn’t appreciate being yelled at, scoffing as he stepped up to the chalice. Holding out both of his hands, Heisenberg started something. Black goo came pouring out, collecting on the chalice.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked, anxious as to what he was seeing.

“Do you want your daughter back?” Heisenberg asked, clearly starting to get irritated.

“… Yes.” Ethan answered after giving it a thought. Thinking if this was the only way to get her back, by this man.

“Then wait. I need to focus on this.” Heisenberg went back to the chalice, more black goo bubbled up around his hands.

While Ethan waited, he grew more anxious. Looking around, waiting for Miranda to appear behind them. He had no idea what Heisenberg was doing. The black goo appeared familiar, the mold.

The mold that Heisenberg had to have the same that Mia and Rosemary had. He had read it just earlier, they were infected with the same.

That infection — the mold — if they could share it, Heisenberg could possibly manipulate it enough to repair her original body. Put her back together as Mia had years ago when he axed her in the neck. The should have died, she lived.

Funnily enough, Ethan could do the same. Not solely on the Baker resident, he had done it inside the castle of Dimitrescu. His hand had been sliced clean off by her long razor blade sharp nails, he just needed to pour some first aid on it to get his hand back…

That was odd…

Ethan turned back to stare at Heisenberg, a form melding together in the black goo — mold.

“Wait,” Ethan started. “What did you mean by I’m special too.”

“What are you talking about, Ethan?” Heisenberg asked.

“Before, you had said that I’m special too, like Rose. What did you mean by that?” Ethan asked.

“Ethan, I’m busy here.” Heisenberg groaned. “Give me a minute.”

The snap of a twig.

Ethan raised up his handgun, pointing it directly where the sound emitted from. Scanning with his eyes, seeking out movement in the tree-line or behind junk of Heisenberg’s yard.

“Almost there.” Heisenberg said behind him, “Tricky kid you got here.”

“Yeah, well hurry it up.” Ethan said, his finger resting on the trigger.

Ethan walked away from Heisenberg, giving him space to let be. Perked ears, sharp eyes, nothing could get past him, and nothing did.

A breeze of feathers floated around a stray tree that was closer to them both. Staring at the spot intensely, a second breeze of black washed over his vision to the left.

Sweeping his gun to where he had seen in out of the corner of his eye, it felt like he was seeing things.

Then, right in front of Ethan, was Mia.

She, not wearing her usual kind smile, frowned deeply before him.

He had seen that face before when the doctors told her that she may never be able to conceive a child, because of the mold. She had been devastated, blaming herself for all of it, wallowing in her own pity. He sat there for days, weeks, trying to console her. And after all of the mourning for a life she had been told she may never have, there she came — Rosemary.

Rose, the light, gave the two hope. The future wouldn’t be corrupt, reminded — through Rose — that they could return back to life. Enjoy it, cherish every moment of it. It had been a miracle that none of the mold came back from Mia’s tests…

That face, her eyes staring at Ethan, they resembled that time before. Although, giving a second thought, it felt ingenuine. A mask she wore poorly. It was her face, the clothes he saw her wear last — what part of this image was wrong.

Oh right, Ethan thought alone, she was dead.

Keeping the handgun pointed at — his wife? — Mia, she walked leisurely towards him. Her hands to her sides, depleted where they hung.

“Our child…she’s so very important, isn’t she?” Mia asked coldly.

Ethan faltered, but behind him, Heisenberg cursed.

“I see that you haven’t gotten rid of Heisenberg.” Mia’s face turned spoilt while she looked over Ethan’s shoulder, “Still letting him lead you down a dead end path.”

“Shut the fuck up, Miranda.” Heisenberg spoke over from behind Ethan, “What good is it keeping that woman’s face? Huh.”

Mia’s face dropped, snarling just over Ethan’s shoulder. She, Miranda wearing his late wife’s face, temporarily disappeared as a flock of birds flew at both of their faces.

“Shit!” Heisenberg shouted, the whoosh of his hammer swinging in the air.

When all had been left in front of them both had been black feathers, a woman’s voice spoke. Miranda, her voice coming from all directions, talked to them.

“What… Do you expect to take away my daughter from me?” Miranda asked.

“She’s not yours! And she never will be.” Ethan shouted all around.

“Oh, but she will be.” Miranda answered back.

Ethan carefully walked his way to the machine Heisenberg built, ready to use it’s bullets and rockets to unload on her.

“You’re going to have to kill me.” Ethan spun around on foot, looking for where she could have gone.

Her voice swam around both their heads, the birds carrying her words.

“I’ve gotten all that I could out of you, my little lab rat… I’ll make this quick.” At the end, Miranda’s voice whispered right beside Ethan’s ear behind him.

Heisenberg’s hammer flew towards them both, Ethan had no time to react. Yet, the hammer grazed over his left shoulder in a whistling of wind, landing directly on his target.

A groan of pain and a warmth radiating onto his back vanished.

Ethan climbed and seated himself on the killing machine. Pointing the front around slowly, keeping his handgun clutched in his other hand in case.

“Working together, you two.” Miranda sounded disappointed, “And after the gift I gave to you.”

“I didn’t want your fucking ‘gift’.” Heisenberg spat out, the bite of his tone snipping at the woman.

In Heisenberg’s left hand, he held one of the containers of Rose. Clutched tight, black goo from earlier clung to the glass surface.

“Oh please, you’re no better than me. Using my daughter to get back at me.” Miranda sneered out of sight, it had been met with a chuckle from the other man.

“I’ll give you that, this kid’s got potential. And now — Miranda” Heisenberg started, “let’s see what this baby can do.”

Holding one of the four containers of Rose, Heisenberg swept his hammer to his left — standing near Ethan and the machine. A flurry of metal shot up out of the ground, shooting up into the air. Shrieks rung out, pain laced in the screams of Miranda.

Ethan spun the controls around to point in the direction that Heisenberg looked on towards. A mass of black stood before them. Preparing the machine gun, Ethan started unloading onto Miranda. Splats of blood floated in the air, but nothing major.

Then, as fast as he had been firing bullet after bullet at her, she was gone.

Letting go of the trigger, Ethan looked over at Heisenberg. He too looked around, likely for Miranda.

Rose, he hadn’t been able to put her back together. Why…?

Shouting out to the lord, Ethan asked what had happened.

“Sorry, papa. You’ll have to do it yourself.” Heisenberg answered. “She won’t listen to me.”

Ethan couldn’t do it. He had no idea how they had done it in the first place.

Crystallized and then split up into four pieces. He had killed monsters in the village, leaving behind crystallized corpses. Was Rose dead? They said she could be revived…

There along the orange glow of her container, black ooze clung to it. If she were made of mold, he could put her back together. He had to try something, he had no idea what would happen once he would get there. He had to try.

“OK!” Ethan shouted back, telling himself that he could do this.

Tumbling off of the machine, Ethan ran towards Heisenberg. The man tossed him the final piece of his daughter, the black mold sticking to Ethan’s hand warmly.

Clutching the glass container, Ethan made a break towards the giant chalice. It waited for him, snow made his path towards his daughter difficult, sliding atop ice hidden under the white fluff.

Behind Ethan he could hear them both. The earth below his feet rumbled and tore open in front of him. Metal rose up out of the ground, up in the air, they flew behind Ethan — to the battle he left.

Upon arriving at the chalice, black muck was everywhere. What Heisenberg had done over here had been left an utter mess. Touching the slime, it tickled the tips of his fingers. Scratching it as a fingernail would, testing him. All over, dripping over the ledge of the chalice, the black sludge crawled.

Oddly enough, he could sense that it was alive.

Ethan closed his eyes to get into focus. Touching, reaching his hand out to collect more of the black mold, he felt something in his body. It made him feel ill, weak.

Earth rained down over Ethan’s head, resembling snowfall. Back in the field, Miranda tried to intervene with the ritual that he had unknowingly recommenced. Heisenberg fought back, using his newly transformed body of 95% pure metal to fling his new-and-improved body parts to her.

The circular blade flying swiping in the air like a Frisbee, using it as both a way to slice at her or protect Ethan against her attacks. Heisenberg did a good enough job in distracting Miranda, using her rage and his irritable personality she quietly disliked to his advantage. Drawing her attention back to him, he could unleash his anger onto her. All these years, this had been all a lead up to this moment.

Miranda too transformed into a winged form, an eye opening on her forehead. Black veins flowered over her limbs, the mold she had been able to control, not the same as Eveline — nor Rosemary. Presenting how cursed her body had become due to her extreme need for her child again. She would do anything. And Heisenberg would enjoy every second she didn’t get what she wanted.

Meanwhile, Ethan’s body easily connected to the system of the megamycete. Elaborate roots and paths, he could feel the thrum of life coursing through his fingers as he held onto his daughter. Heisenberg had left behind the direction he needed, Ethan felt welcomed in there.

It had been tricky, at first, to find out what he needed to do. Exhausting crawled up his arms and spine each second he fought to find his daughter.

He couldn’t reach out to anything, nothing had been physically in front of him — except for the pieces of Rose in the orange containers. Then, he had moved onto the thought. Rose. Bring her back, she needed to be there. Mia would be in there too — if she hadn’t been cured and had died as he had been told repeatedly — she would want Rose to be picked.

Ethan came all this way, traveled past castles with bloodless corpses, a cliff side mansion packed with lively dolls, a reservoir with waterlogged homes of test-subjects, and a factory filled to the brim with walking ‘zombies’. Rose, innocent, had done no wrong ever in her short life, he was here for her.

No matter how painful it tore at his heart, hot tears — mold — pouring out of his eyes, he shook as he put back together his daughter. Crying out in the agony, it felt like his soul was leaving his body as he concentrated on the memory of her. He held on, his hands getting warmer and warmer, growing to be hot like the sun.

Bubbling his skin, tearing out his essence of his breath he let out.

The grip left him, he had been freed.

His muscles in his legs gave out, his body falling forward to rest onto the upright chalice, Ethan’s hands were warm.

Opening his eyes, a blurry sight made it difficult to see, but he could hear her. Her soft hiccups, a squeak of a thing if you needed to name it and — most importantly — unmistakably, Rose. Her eyes blinking open, looking up at the sky above her, the morning’s sun showing life that she always had.

Her hair, just as Ethan’s, had been taken gently by the wind. Brushing her hair away from her face, her blonde hair short and struggling to lay back down onto her forehead. She had been as perfect as he remembered.

Holding her to his chest, Ethan turned around to seat himself on the ground. Leaning back against the chalice, the ceremony was finished.

While he had been out of focus to his surrounding, he missed quite the show. Looking around at the new scenery helped nothing, but confused the father.

Black trees had sprouted up from the ground, flailing it’s branches in the sky. Metallic tornadoes shredded the ‘trees’ to mulch, collapsing in masses of sludge. The Heisenberg he had met in the past few hours had morphed into a massive and elaborate jumble of parts. From vehicles or machinery he obtained over decades of collection.

As for Miranda, she resembled what he had seen in the portrayed images of biblical angels. She sprouted wings behind her back, but they were black. Bat-like, veins bulging, thin, and corrupt of delicate details of the flying mammal. He had last seen her with feathered wings, wrapped around her person.

She no longer resembled much of her previous form, similarly to Heisenberg.

Her eyes were melted over, shut by black markings he couldn’t make out. A wide vertical eye had been replaced from what had been lost, resting on her forehead. The ‘crown’ she wore too had changed alongside her. Having eyes that looked around itself, melded onto Miranda. Her legs were gone, though the upper part of her body remained, differently from Heisenberg — who held no real resemblance anymore to what he had been.

Her pale white skin contrasted against the black roots — Ethan realized — that transformed her body to this…thing.

As for the battle that went on as he held Rose close — her soft cries, her hands reaching up towards her father’s face — they both regenerated in front of him. As Miranda would fly to up into the sky to sweep down, slashing at Heisenberg’s new limbs, they would be glued back together.

Both of them, they were both incredibly powerful. Yet, it appeared clear to them all who would win.

Staring down at his daughter, her eyes full of wonder and curiosity, were entirely uninterested in anything but him. Her distressed breathing, she could sense that he was stressed. That, plus the sight of black liquid dripping down his face made her more distraught.

Her daddy, exhausted where he sat, looked different. She didn’t like this, it seemed. Her noises resembled when she would need to be changed, she didn’t like this, not knowing why.

He wanted to soothe her, but he was exhausted. Too tired to stand up and run, to help kill Miranda. His eyes were drooping, it got blacker wherever he looked. The sun in the sky dimmed, muted towards him.

“Ethan!” A familiar voice whispered to his left.

Ethan didn’t bother to look over, not until whoever called for him did it another time. That time being a bit louder, harder to ignore his curiosity itching inside his skull.

Turning his head to the side, Ethan saw who it was.

He hadn’t expected to see him, but there he crouched over. Chris Redfield, holding his firearm in hand, but not pointing it to anyone.

“Ethan, I need to get you out of here.” Chris spoke, “Come on, it’s too dangerous out here for you two.”

Ethan stared at him, the man who had murdered his wife.

Yet, Ethan looked over at the fight between Heisenberg and Miranda. Volatile, if they were to get too close to Ethan, Rose would get seriously hurt.

On the other hand, how Chris held his firearm at rest, but didn’t put it away. Rose, Chris would take her away. Most definitely at that point. She had been crystallized and put back together, Chris must have seen it all if he was there. They would take him away, separate him from Rose.

Ethan would get out of here with his daughter. He would run for the rest of his forsaken life if it meant that Rose wouldn’t be used as a weapon. He realized it now, he regretted agreeing with Heisenberg.

Ethan could get up and run, or help kill Miranda — as to not have her come after them both. But to rely on Chris, which proved to only cause harm, he wouldn’t go there. Ethan regretted already the handshake he gave the man, he wouldn’t make another mistake. He needed it to stop.

Ethan looked away from Chris, holding his daughter close in an attempt to hide her from the other. Rose made uncomfortable sounds, being squished to his chest.

“Ethan! Both of you need to get out of here.” Chris whispered to him, Ethan ignored him.

Heisenberg and Miranda were busy, throwing their own flurry of madness towards each other. Blood raining down from the sky like rain, the fight was approaching an end.

Ethan kept his firearm holstered, he needed a safe place to hide Rose.

“For fuck’s sake.” Chris cursed to himself, but Ethan heard him. “We don’t have the time for your bullshit, Ethan. Rose can get hurt out here.”

At the mention of his daughter, Ethan would have punched the man right in the face. How could he mention that when he destroyed everything mere hours ago. They wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for him.

“I don’t give a damn what you think, Chris.” Ethan spat, “You killed Mia, you’re not taking Rose away from me too.”

The ground underneath him rumbled, parts of the earth starting to rip apart, revealing dirt in the cracks — amongst other things. Black roots, slithering up from the cold dirt, pawed up as trees. Miranda created more of the abominations around the field.

“There’s a lot that you don’t understand. And, it can wait for later. You two need to get to extraction.” Chris cursed as he saw Ethan’s lack of interest, “I don’t have time for this shit. I need to get you both out of here.”

Strong arms wrapped around Ethan’s torso, squeezing Rose to his chest more, and begun dragging them both backwards around the empty chalice.

“Go to hell!” Ethan shoved at Chris, trying to break him off of him.

Rose started to cry, distressed furthermore by the aggressive rocking. She didn’t understand what was going on, only that her father — who kept her warm — became upset. All while, this man appeared to her, who she thought might have started this.

If Rose recognized Chris or not from their minimal interactions in the past, blurred with all the rest, it mattered not.

Chris dragged them backwards, farther back from the fight ahead of them.

Ethan head butted Chris, his temple igniting in pain after he did so. It managed to break him free from the other. Backing up his steps, Ethan glared at Chris.

“Screw you.” Ethan shouted. “We’re not going with you — not ever again. Not after what you did.”

Chris’ expression fell, he knew what Ethan referred to in that moment.

“I’ll explain it to you later, right now you two need to get to the extraction point.” Chris stepped in, “Miranda is destroying the area — the entire village. Soon, neither of you will be able to get out of this.”

As Ethan took in his surroundings, it hadn’t only been where Miranda and Heisenberg battled that had roots sprouting from the earth.

Over in the village, along the mountains too, Miranda’s lively trees climbed up into the waking sun air. She had been stronger than he could have ever imagined. Not even at the Baker estate had he ever seen such an expanse of land be demolished by otherworldly forces.

An earthquake shook the ground, a loud piercing rumble vibrating their eardrums.

Ethan turned around to see what went on behind them back in the field.

In the sky, Miranda flew using her new deformed wings, it’s wingspan massive. On the other side, Heisenberg had been shed of multiple parts that were attached in him prior.

Lost amongst the mayhem that he watched unraveling, Chris’ hands took Rose from him. Swiftly taken out of his arms, not enough time to register it. But as Ethan whipped around to stare, wide eyed, Chris held his handgun. Not pointing it at Ethan, but he might soon be doing so if Ethan took into account how irritated he looked.

Chris backed away, wanting to lead Ethan from the fight going on — again, using Rose to do so. Ethan didn’t think of the logic, he would have agreed to get Rose out of here. It had been who held Rose that ticked off his parental instinct.

“Back off Chris.” Ethan marched after him, “You have no right.”

“You need to get out of here — those two are about to-” Chris then got interrupted by black roots shooting up out of the ground behind him, walling him off.

Chris stared at it, the sudden nature of it appearing startled them both to silence, their argument halted.

“Give her back to me, now!”Ethan shouted, ready to pull out his own handgun.

Chris didn’t answer.

The branches of the tree reached out towards Chris. Slithering around his limbs and tightening. Chris’ tight turtleneck sweater showed just how strong the tentacles were. A grunt came from the man, his body shook at the intruding branches.

Rose, nestled to Chris’ chest, cried loudly in distress. Near screaming, her arms were flailing around.

A hard snap of a twig, Chris let out a muted scream. Trying to conceal his pain, the branches of the tree had broken Chris’ forearms.

Ethan saw the instability of his arms. He would drop Rose.

Running over to them both, Ethan scooping up Rose into his arms. Her cries immediately becoming more quiet, hard loud cries from a baby turned into her normal sobs. Her face covered in her own snot and tears, she looked highly shaken up.

Gut-wrenching, a sight of his daughter incredibly distraught made it all the more worse. She was scared beyond comprehension of her infant mind. Ethan could feel as he secured her, her soiled diaper leaked on his arms. She couldn’t be consoled anymore, not even being held by her father calmed the intention she had in store.

Then, her body glowing a soft glow in vein patterns, her eyes became a pure white.

Ethan stared in utter bewilderment as his daughter glowed brighter.

The muted pained screams of Chris turned up in volume. His shouts had passed over the father’s ears, entranced in the show dancing on her skin. Her veins glowing like starlight.

With the attention returned to Chris, he had been lifted up in the air by the branches. They acted differently from the ones around Miranda. These had a purpose, and they were not happy with Chris Redfield. Branches wrapped around the limbs of the soldier, coiling around the curves and indents of his body.

Snaps of his shins sounded wet while Ethan saw them bend to the sides, as did his femurs as they followed suit.

Many of the branches that found their spot on his body started to set off as dominoes. Crushing every bone they wrapped around, his tight shirt tearing open when his collar bone popped out. Past the skin, a splinter poking out, covered in blood.

Ethan could hear his breathing turn from panting to wheezing. Gurgled, blood coming out in coughs while Chris tried to get as much air as he could. He drowned as blood filled his lungs after his ribs piercing them.

Down in Ethan’s arms, Rose glowed brighter then ever before.

In the clean snow, it was tainted. Blood splattered outwards, some ran off of the tips of Chris’ boots. Branches were squeezing him like an orange, getting all the juice out of him.

Ethan backed a few steps, staring in fear as Chris had his jaw broken off — hung out of the skin, drooping towards the ground.

More wrapped around Chris, wrapping all over every inch of skin. Forcing his arms to his side, his legs pressed together. When that had been completed, the mold branches twisted.

Pops, cracks, wet bursting, it sounded familiar. The human body making sounds as familiar household items as Chris had been wrung out like a washcloth.

Blood cascaded out from the cracks between the branches. Soaking into the snow, covering the branches in his gore.

Ethan turned away just as the ‘trees’ had let Chris go, letting him drop dead on the ground.

He could throw up, Ethan may do just that. Nothing had resembled him — Chris. A mass of meat, clothing mixed in. A toy doll that had been through a paper shredder, or crushed chocolate cookies — they would be the exact same, it simply looked different than what it was supposed to.

Slowly looking down at Rose, quieter than he realized, she sniffled in the cold air. Her wet face freezing, turning pink, while she stared up at her daddy. Frostbite would set in soon if he didn’t dry her, protect her.

Using the sleeve of his jacket, Ethan wiped the tears and snot away. Delicately doing so. She would still get cold.

Taking off his entire jacket, Ethan wrapped Rose up — keeping her away from the approaching frostbite.

His jacket had kept him warm the entire journey through the village, now he could use his warmth to keep her well.

Falling down to his knees, Ethan felt exhausted. He could fall down into the fluffy snow, sleep forever if needed.

Up ahead, as he wished to see the result of the fight, Miranda held down Heisenberg using her bizarre trees. Forcing him down to the earth, whirls of engines sliced at the branches, but nothing long lasting.

Ethan couldn’t run.

So, he stood up and walked over to the killing machine that Heisenberg had crafted just for him.

Stumbling over, tripping over his own feet, Ethan climbed up to sit on the seat. With Rose in his arm, he used the other to spin the machine around to face them both in the field.

Pointing up the machine gun arm, Ethan unleashed the ammo into her back. Letting the bullets fly into her, blood exploding around, trees flailing as if they were in pain. Miranda had been focused on Heisenberg. When she looked around to glare at Ethan, her jaw slackened.

“No.” Miranda said, “No!”

The earth under the killing machine shifted, tossing Ethan side-to-side on the wobbling seat.

“You bastard! Give her back to me — you can’t have her.” Miranda screamed out.

Miranda turned away from Heisenberg, more focused on the tiny machine he sat atop of.

“I did not risk all of this — just for you to take it away from me!” Miranda shouted, swiping her arm to control the branches — slamming down, scratching Ethan’s cold face.

Ethan curled over Rose, shielding her from the needle point branches from touching her.

Groaning in pain, he let go of the machine gun’s trigger to wrap it around Rose. Holding onto her tightly, her hiccuped sobs softening his anger.

“Crazy son of a bitch.” Ethan said to himself.

Whirs of a massive engine rung loud. A yell came from Miranda above, flying up over Ethan’s body.

The pains inflicted along Ethan’s back ceased.

Taking his head out from his lap, Ethan looked skywards. Rains of metal bolts mixed with feathers fell down. Both Heisenberg and Miranda suffering from their own wounds. Proceeding to heal themselves, gets hurt again, and repeat.

Ethan reached back over to the machine gun, unloading more into Miranda while Heisenberg attacked during her temporary distraction. Heisenberg was dying, unfortunately. Neither Heisenberg nor Ethan could take her down. Miranda hadn’t been weakened due to the ritual, Ethan had gone on with it, and tired as could be.

The bullets firing out of the machine gun were unending, piercing the flesh of Miranda’s mold. Heisenberg slowed, he didn’t have enough time to recover from her repeated well aimed attacks.

Miranda flew threw the air like a bird of prey, cutting off pounds of flesh from Heisenberg’s metallic form.

Miranda prepared for another dive towards the deformed man. Ethan, however, switched to the rocket launcher arm of the killing machine and pulled the trigger.

Pulling the trigger set off a rough rock of the machine, Rose let out unhappy cries at feeling this.

Miranda had been knocked out of the air at the rocket blasted into her, causing her to go off course.

Rose’s body wiggled in his arms. Taking in her face, her eyes looked at her father confusedly. He couldn’t explain any of this himself. Fighting a mad cultist who wanted her dead to replace her own deceased daughter.

The branches of the trees grabbed onto the machine they had both been on. Lifting it into the air, high above the ground. Tossing them back and forth, Ethan tried to stand firm to not fall off to their death. The trees were made of that black mold, they were similar to what had killed Chris, although more strategic.

Ripping off the arms of the machine — no more rocket launcher nor it’s machine gun — and tore off the steering device. Turned into a throne for a sorrowful father, Miranda’s new eyes bulged out from their sockets. Loathing the sight of the man she had let live.

“You, Ethan Winters, have come far enough.” Miranda yelled, “I have no use of you in my future.”

Her longs fingernails glinted with blood, Heisenberg’s. A snarl spread on her lips, her wings spread wide. An angel, how could he think she resembled that now as he held onto his daughter tight. He could duck, use the handgun he kept from that villager, he might even be able to make it if he jumped down from the machine.

There wouldn’t be much to run from, the only choice he had rested in his holster.

Pulling out his handgun, Ethan unloaded the last of his bullets into Miranda’s face. Her skin healed in seconds as the bullet tore open her flesh. More ammo in his pockets, but he couldn’t reach for them as he held Rose.

It hadn’t been enough, of course. Miranda wasn’t weakened, her strength over the hundred years she lived wouldn’t sway to the will of a father’s love. Dropping his handgun, clattering down on the hard floor, Ethan held tight onto Rose. Taking a glance over the ledge of the vehicle, they both levitated — perhaps — fifty feet up in the air.

Ethan placed his foot on the ledge of the machine, readying to leap off. Playing with the idea of surviving, would Rose? Babies could die if jostled too wildly, this, this may be too much.

As he looked down in his arms, staring at his beautiful daughter’s face, he knew he couldn’t do it. Screw him and his body, she would still be left defenseless to Miranda.

No matter what Ethan chose to do, he would lose.

Stepping away from the ledge, Ethan glared at the woman who prepared to fly towards in. She would kill him.

Miranda flew, soaring with the sun glowing on her back, blinding the father at the same instance, time slowed down for Ethan. It would have been a good morning to wake to his family. Warm soft sheets to keep them all from the snow that would come in the next few hours.

The spread out fingers of Miranda approached quickly, slicing the clouds she floated amongst in halves. Her eyes were staring at him, only Ethan.

Ethan couldn’t have Rose get hurt, as he thought about it. He had kept her warm, his jacket still holding some of the warmth his body created. In a last stitch effort to save her, Ethan swiftly placed down his daughter to the floor of the machine.

Pulling out his shotgun, Ethan prepared for her eventual arrival to where he stood. Pointing the end of the barrel to Miranda, Ethan fired three times. Shooting at her, up until she had sunk her nails into Ethan’s chest, keeping them buried to then lift him up and out of the machine.

Ethan’s screams felt deafened while Miranda flew them both into the air. Higher up off of the ground as he watched, he could see Rose — waiting for her father to come back. Miranda flew them both double as much as he had been on the machine. The factory far below him, seeing the village he ran through be a shadow of what he saw.

Four of Miranda’s nails held strong while dragging Ethan higher up. Dizziness from the lack of oxygen, Ethan fired the last of the shells with great struggle into Miranda. He heard groans of pain, but her wingspan didn’t falter, she was stronger than him.

At the altitude she wished to be at, Miranda held up Ethan to be facing her. Her face, distorted and unfamiliar, grimaced at the mere sight of him. The whites of her teeth were cracked, dull.

Miranda’s left hand shot through Ethan’s chest in the blink of an eye.

His jaw dropped open in shock, blood pouring out of his body.

As fast as Miranda had shot her hand through his chest, she ripped it out. Taking something that made his entire body react to, leaning after it in attempt to keep it inside.

In her hand, Ethan’s heart coated in blood. The pumps of blood it meant to do in order to keep him alive oozed dark crimson down her wrist.

“I will make sure to sample your blood for later.” Miranda clenched his heart in her hand.

Ethan’s eyesight shook, they were losing focus.

The open wound in his chest seared in agony. A fight he had once put up dwindled, fast.

“You two might have restored Eveline’s vessel, but it’s no good.” Miranda said this as she rejoiced at her ‘victory’, “She will be mine, and she will give me back my daughter.”

Ethan’s hand let go of the emptied shotgun, it falling down to the earth. His blood flowing out from his chest cavity, waterfalling down all around the landscape of the field.

“I will be her true mother!”

Miranda’s laughter ceased with a choked wheeze.

Her hands that continued to lift Ethan’s body upright wobbled. Ethan swayed back and forth while her hands shook on their own.

“What…is….this….?” Miranda spat out, a lot of work to do a simple task.

Then a deep crack rang, Miranda arched her back. A guttural scream stung Ethan’s ears.

Nails had poked out from behind Ethan’s back, but as Miranda flung Ethan to the right, all four of her pointed nails slipped out of him entirely.

Ethan stared tiredly up at Miranda, her wings flopping all around the air. Uncoordinated, working on their own accord, Miranda panicked while up in the sky, trying to stay afloat that high up. Her hands flailing, trying to reach in all directions for something. What should have been her legs — now formed into roots — wiggled helplessly.

From a hundred feet in the air, his fall picked up speed. Seeing a black bird fly past him, then followed a few more in packs, a murder of crows went by him.

While he stared up at Miranda’s body, it begun to pull itself apart. Her wings were shed off her back. Her arm torn off by the shoulder. Her legs — roots — were pulled apart. Taking long strings of it like paper, ripping it off. She too, in pieces, was falling down back to earth.

And just past her, the sky looked peaceful — blissfully unaware that he fell to his death.

Clouds lightened up by the sun coming up after the long night it had been gone — clarity. They were moving, ever so slowly, but they were watching him leave. He had been among them for a short period, and the distance between them growing back to what it should have always been, he felt a deep sorrow. He wasn’t supposed to be that high up, he was supposed to be in the ground, looking up at them. Imagining and putting shapes to them, he should have been an onlooker, not an enjoyer of being one of them.

Ethan wasn’t meant to be in the clouds. He wasn’t meant to have Mia nor Rose in his life. In that short amount of time he got to cherish their company, he wouldn’t exchange that for anything in the world.

With the crows flying around him, he knew it. Life would go on without him. The birds in the sky that could be with clouds were entirely unaffected by the reality of the situation. Ethan is dying.

No one would mourn him. His daughter would forget about him in the years to come. Mia would too be forgotten, died where she should have been, a safe home. Not trapped under the supervision of someone, a person who saw her only as something to be taken away from right under his nose.

He had done it all, no matter that he wasn’t meant to, now it was his time.

It went black. Nothing, no feeling whatsoever, just a blank space.

He would open his eyes eventually, a misery that he had to withstand.

Looking down at him while he lay on his back, Heisenberg — worse for wear — held Rosemary sloppily to his side.

“Told you, your kid here is something special.” Heisenberg breathed out, worked hard during the battle he had gone through with Miranda.

Ethan blinked, he couldn’t talk. What he could do was raise up his left hand weakly, reaching out for Rosemary — wrapped in his old, beat-up jacket — not a scratch on her. She was too far away. Ethan’s heartless body shut down, one-by-one, his hand lost the strength to go on.

Falling down to collapse softly back onto the snow.

Rose’s face looked distressed, she cried while he imagined her smiling. If it were years down the line, he could just see it.

Heisenberg pat the baby on the back, ruffling her hair lightly.

“I guess this is the end of the line, papa.” Heisenberg said.

Ethan, whatever he thought that helped him heal quickly, couldn’t regenerate a heart. Heisenberg spoke the obvious.

“You did the right thing.” Heisenberg smirked, but it softened at the edges, then stretched his lips thin.

Breathing in deeply, letting out an exhausted sigh, Heisenberg did a lazy salute.

Rose’s tiny hands reached out to grab at her father. Covered in blood and feeling ice cold, Ethan may just suck all of her warmth away.

Ethan tried to smile, trying to calm his crying baby from her worries. She needed to believe he was alright, even if it were a lie, he didn’t want to hear her crying.

His eyes drifted closed.

While Heisenberg turned around, carrying Ethan’s distressed child, his mind replayed a memory. A fond one. One that he kept at the forefront of his mind, where Rose had covered her face in baby food. Rubbing it into her face, laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Mia trying to stop her from doing it while laughing herself, Ethan taking photographs of it. He never wanted to forget it.

As the end of the film finished, her joyous laughter played over-and-over again until the very end.

Rose, baby Rosemary, would grow up with Heisenberg. Taking her under his wing, treating her like a student. Feeding her what he ate, even if she wasn’t supposed to. Teaching her how to create ‘soldats’, showing her blueprints.

Rosemary, over time, had little interest in staying with Heisenberg. Running away, but coming back when she got scared to leave the mountains.

Heisenberg was no father to her, more of a mentor. Telling her of what great power she had, that she could control the world if she truly wanted. Letting her read the journals and research that Miranda had left lying around.

Rose did not like going into Miranda’s old research room. Large flies were trapped inside, and it smelt truly awful. Running in, grabbing one more of her books, and running out.

Although the room had been deep underground, Rose used her ability to control the black roots along the caves to bring her in and out. Heisenberg explained how she could control more than just that, reinforcing this belief.

Rereading the books well into her teens, Rose — in fact — did not forget about her father nor her mother. The house that they had all been in, faint and feverish.

While Rose read through Miranda’s notes, it had been written that she would ‘revive’ her long lost daughter. She, this Eveline, had died over a hundred years ago.

Triggering a thought to Rose, why had Miranda failed? What would happen if she tried to search for her father. Could she bring him back?

Heisenberg’s repeated influence, the power of the mold, a teenager’s mind and persistence. Could Rose really do anything? Even if it meant looking for a suitable ‘vessel’ for her father.