-1It's quiet, she notices that. The facility seems almost deserted, if not for the near silent hum of equipment hidden behind the steel covered walls.
No one had been there to meet her when the copter had landed, an unusual feat, as normally Chris and Steve would be there, Will hiding in the background, Wesker watching on cameras below. There hadn't even been a lackey or a doctor to make sure she was alright.
Something must be up.
Her footsteps echo as she hurries down a flight of stairs, into the deeper levels where it's suddenly dangerous to be. There's something on the air in here, and it reeks of foul play. The temperature is cold, about as chilling as one of William's labs. He likes the cold… she muses to herself, toying with the strap of her holster. Something inside her screams to pull it out, but she always has this feeling in these halls, the effect of being around monsters like them for so long.
Instead she walks forwards, leaving one hand to hover over her holster, the other trailing along the cool wall, forcing herself to be calm.
---
First up is Steve's room, the one closest to the exit. The door slides open at her touch, and she steps inside glancing about.
The bed's messy, ruffled, like he had to get out of it fast. The sheets are skewed to one side, the covers gone completely. His bedside table is lying on the floor, the lamp smashed, alarm lying in several pieces.
"Steve…" There's fear and worry in her voice. Steve's a neat freak about his room, he hates anything out of place in it…he'd never leave it like this unless…
Go on, finish that thought. A nasty little voice creeps into her mind, trying to make her break, shatter.
"No." she growls, refusing to believe something could have happened. "He's just…a mission, that's all, he had to go on a mission."
She stumbles back outside, this time actually removing her gun from the holster. The door slides shut, cutting off her view of the messy room as her back presses against the far wall, getting her bearings. Left, go left, get to Chris's room. Go NOW!
She manages to get her legs moving again and she runs now, stumbling in her rush. She falls through the open door of her brother's room, landing hard on the carpeted floor, her weapon flying from her hand.
She lets out a pained whimper and sits up, seeing red…all over the floor. A horrified gasp escapes her lips and a hand flies to her mouth, not realising that the appendage is covered in the fluid, only when it touches her skin does she know.
She crawls backwards, away, desperately trying to escape the blood, half sobbing, half whispering her brothers name, terrified of the wet splotches on muted blue carpet. She spots broken glass in one such mark, a dribble of…something beside it.
Whatever happened was brutal, messy, and probably something to do with the virus in both Chris and Steve's bodies…Wesker.. It has to have been him!
Rage surges through her, ridding her of the fear and panic that had held her prisoner only moments before. There's an eerie calm across her face, though her bright eyes are filled with a burning hatred. Wesker.
---
The…I…he…this…can't be…
She'd been so sure, so positive it was him…but now…now as she stands among the scattered sheets of paper lying strewn across the floor, the mahogany desk no more than matchsticks before her, droplets of blood arcing up the walls and across the floor…she realises…
"It wasn't him…"
Then her heart falls into the pit of her stomach, and she goes paler underneath the bloody print on her face.
"William…" What if he's hurt, missing, just like them? Oh god, please no!
Paper skids from under her feet as she takes off once more, feet pounding against the metal floor, thundering her way to the stairs, past his room ( he never sleeps there when she's away, it's always the labs), down the stairs, skidding to a halt once more outside the lab door.
-pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease-
She's weaponless, the gun lying in a pool of blood on Chris's carpet, among the shards of glass. She doesn't want to revisit that room, not until she knows they aren't…
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears. She's lost them both before, she can't face doing it again. A fist presses the door lock and the double doors slide back.
Its pitch black inside, or at least it is until her eyes grow accustomed to the gloom. Her hand edges along the wall and touches the cool plastic of the lights. She presses down on the plastic and suddenly bright light blinds her for a moment. She can see the far door ahead of her, past all the tech and equipment. Not a thing is out of place, unless you call William's habit of messily strewing his papers across every available surface a mess. Nothing was out of the ordinary for him, at least not in this room.
She hurried over to the other door, pausing only to pick up a heavy stapler. If nothing else she could throw it for a distraction and escape, or clobber a guard with it. Her fear mounts as she reaches for the door handle with one hand, the other sweating in its grip around the red stapler. She grabs the cool metal handle, pauses, then gives a sharp tug . It's pulled towards her silently, and she steps inside.
---
He hears the outside door open, and the smallest of smiles comes to his face, his anticipation rising, arching higher than it had been these past few hours. The last 'specimen' was in place, had been just hours ago, and he'd just gotten back from a refreshing shower, now standing in fresh clothes, a pristine white lab coat slung around his shoulders, open, showing his chest, shirt unbuttoned.
He feels a chill run up his spine as he gazes at his three works of art. They're beautiful, magnificent, Claire will understand right away when she sees them, he's never been more sure of anything. He stands in front of them, back to the door, bathing in their mixed lights, the liquids swirling in the darkness surrounding them all.
On the left…Green and silver.
On the right…Orange and gold.
And in the centre, the culmination of both and the finest work of art he had ever created…a balance of both, the colours twisting and corrupting each other in a never ending battle to take control, but they were in a perfect harmony in that neither could win the battle.
A small beam of white light appears before him, and he smiles to himself as it grows, the door behind him opening slowly.
He turns around, and greats her with the smile, arms opening wide. "Claire…"
Something red falls form her hand to the tiled floor with a plastic thud.
"William…what have you done?!"