Part IX: Odin's jewel
The Sanctum and Vault used to be two of the highest peaks of the Kurinthian Temple. The rain water kept rising; the demolished temple was barely visible anymore. Archer remembered himself fighting a strange flying beast that shared a close resemblance to the mutated hunters with long tongues. At one time in the past they were called "Lickers": another bio-organic weapon from the Umbrella Corporation. He woke up feeling numb everywhere and his head felt heavy.
His skull felt so dense, if he tried to get a feel for what was in front of him he would break his neck. But from his blurry vision, he kind of gotten the idea of what position he was in. It was not uncommon for subjects to bow before a great one, and for Alex it was his greatest wish for someone other than him to bow and scrape for once. Archer put all of his strength to his back to have a fighting chance of standing up. The Licker placed his claw hand and kept him grounded.
"Alex...how kan deg ?" He asked feeling exhausted.
(Alex…how could you?)
"Odins juvel. Har en tidløs artefakt noensinne sett slik klar, så klar ? Jeg kan se nå hvorfor elixir aldri kan bli tainted eller kan bli konstruert i en lab. Det tok meg år, Erke. Jeg følte alltid noe sterk forble i tempelet, men mitt normalt selv som ha blitt valgt ikke til overindulge i nysgjerrighet. Min far hadde rett om en ting : Jeg er uverdig. Jeg var uverdig til iden jeg noensinne kunne passe opp til hans selfishness og detraction av menneskelig liv. Elixir som seg kan bli begravd for all som jeg meg bekymrer. Denne juvelen er min frelse til verdenen."
(Odin's jewel. Has a timeless artifact ever looked so clear, so serene? I can see now why the elixir can never be tainted or engineered in a lab. It took me years, Archer. I always felt something strong lingered in the temple, but my normal self chose not to overindulge in the curiosity. My father was right about one thing: I am unworthy. I was unworthy to the idea I could ever match up to his selfishness and detraction of human life. The elixir itself can be buried for all I care. This jewel is my salvation to the world.)
"I can still see conflict in you. You hold the jewel and cherish its power like some priceless antique. Yet your heart begs you to not be consumed for what it might do to you. Alex, please see reason. You have loathed your father's legacy since you left him to rot in his own home. Allow someone else who has studied the jewel a little longer than you. We both can prevent the world from future biohazards; just let me in."
Alex left the jewel levitating in the air for a bit. He then raised a cup of the elixir and went back to where the licker was keeping Archer. Archer had a glimmer of a chance he would listen to him. In the Danish language, he spoke to the Licker about drinking to keep her strength up. "Her" Archer thought; that was when his eyes opened wide when he ordered her to fly back to the Sanctum and lie in wait for the human survivors; especially for the old man. Her sharp clawed hand rose from Archer's overly worn back and flew away, leaving the two remaining minds of Norse Mythology's checkered history. Alex bent to his level and raised his head to give him back some elixir he lost over the course of his unplanned freedom from the Vessel. In his own way, he still showed mercy in troubled times. They spoke in the common tongue.
"You should be able to move." Alex told him backing away.
"You are doing the right thing, my friend." He replied, using his knees to stand up. "There was a time when you were a better man than the ones who destroyed a city simply because they could. Ragnarok is happening all around us. The rain water will consume us all if we don't lift the Architects' curse."
"They spoke to me when I was in the elixir. They said if I had inhabited its power, I would end up in the world I lived in before. I rejected it you see, but the virus my father implanted in me still speaks in harsh tones, telling me I'm inferior to my brother."
"You're damned if you do, damned if you don't. It's the circle of life when it comes to finding power. The illusion of immortality corrupts, Alex; even the degradation of a loving wife." Archer said before swiftly grabbing his neck.
"Now who's abusing their power?"
"She had no hand in this, Alex. How could you do that to her?!" He demanded as both pushed each other towards opposite sides of the Vault.
"I have been cut off from the rest of the world. But I think in this case, these words still apply to the overall picture: everything is going according to plan."
The Sanctum was tailored to both mystery and discovery. Silence filled the room where each sarcophagus sheltered the six remaining survivors. Ethan's body laid stiff yet peaceful thanks to Kelley's last kind words to him, and passing from the world knowing he was truly free. In each coffin lied a dark memory ready to be resurfaced as the green smoke turned a different color. The scalpel shaped blades made one incision on each survivor, opening the gateway for their inner fears to flow. Carlos's fear set his sarcophagus a blazing blue as a pinch was felt on his arms. His eyes were taken back to the time where a walking behemoth chased him through some city streets.
He could almost recall the gruff and monstrous snarls of the beast made from the labors of Umbrella. The Nemesis in Raccoon City was a ferocious sort; he chased both him and his partner at the time, Jill Valentine all throughout the police department, city alleys filled with T-Virus zombies, and the adrenaline he felt when he was tracking down his old CO, Nicholai. At the time, his mind wasn't his to control. It played a memory that seemed the most dark and relevant to him and strung him along like he was gaining the upper hand; him and Jill. That was until they reached a dead end and saw a missile heading for the city. It was moving in slow motion, just like the zombie horde and the Nemesis finally caught up with them.
Using what ammo they had left in their firearms, they only managed to get a third of the horde down. Suddenly, a familiar face walked out of nowhere in front of them. His old friend and comrade, Mikhail stepped in with blood all over him, holding a grenade to show what he was about to do as a final solution. Carlos called out his name and ran like hell to prevent him from pulling the pin. Then Nemesis roared out a thundering tone which sent him on his back. Jill helped him up and both looked to Mikhail as he gave them a smile and a nod, pulling the pin and ending it all. This memory sent Carlos on a spiraling path of twisted images and seizing in the sarcophagus itself. The only thing left for him to do was to resist from submitting to the realness of the disturbing images of human lives getting taken by Nicholai and the T-Virus.
Cara's memory of her first zombie sent her back through time to the moment where her aunt was taken away after being rescued by the S.T.A.R.S soldiers from her home. However, she didn't emerge as the eleven year old with a velvet singing voice, but as her present self with some experience in handling weapons. She was in the aftermath of her house burnt to the ground, waking up next to her dead aunt with a bullet hole in her infected skull. She got startled and moved away a bit, but she recognized the picnic table dress she was wearing back then. She looked at her house and saw all the good memories of her past visits go up in smoke. Getting up with a shotgun in hand, she stood over her aunt's body.
"Bendiga a padre celestial, este mundo ha ido al infierno con el muerto levantándose. Mi tía fue demasiado pronto. Pregunto que cuida de ella en sus armamentos amorosos cuando había fallado de hacer así. Descanse en la paz." She said kissing her hand and putting it on her head.
(Bless heavenly father, this world has gone to hell with the dead rising up. My aunt went too soon. I ask that you take care of her in your loving arms when I had failed to do so. Rest in peace.)
She walked away from the suburban part of Raccoon City and made her way downtown. She walked about five blocks filled with demolished buildings and more dead bodies that were rotting away. She checked each one to make sure they were dead. Then the city's skies went from dark to a slew of colors, and the gravity was all over the place. It kept her shoulders at mid-level as she was on all fours moving through the street.
Then a vibrant blaze of red seared the buildings to ash, leaving the entire city a burial ground in a matter of seconds. Filled with distraught and not feeling like herself, all that was left to see was her body encased in rotted flesh and her shotgun unreachable. She screamed and screamed trying to get out. Three bodies appeared before her; they were in the presence of her aunt, Terrell with both halves of his body split welded together, and Monroe looking like a frail shell of his former self with a bullet to the head. She pleaded how sorry she was for what happened to them, especially Terrell.
"I've done my best to stay strong for you guys." She said giving a stern look to each of them. "I promise...I'll make your deaths mean something."
She thought it was necessary to end their suffering, but something was keeping her from explaining her side. Her aunt scrunched her left hand, causing Cara's mouth to be closed, while Monroe limped to her with flesh on the rotting mind. As she struggled more and more to get free, Terrell was dragging metal on the ground; it was the same bloody axe. He nearly cut her down before she ordered him not to. The aunt bent down and sent her right hand caressing down Cara's face, speaking in two demonic tones at once.
"Don't be afraid, my dear. We are only taking you to hell. The souls of Raccoon City linger there, waiting to be released. A certain Chief Irons won't let us leave though, but I wonder if he will change his mind after we offer you to his pleasure?" She said as Cara screamed through her trapped mouth. "He's not picky when it comes to fondling teenagers, yet your face needs more time to develop. Well, we don't much time. Terrell, she called him over, carve out one of her eyes, and then slit her neck so she doesn't scream. Irons prefers his women with their mouths shut."
Right then, she screamed at the top of her lungs with her aunt apologizing for what had to be done. Terrell raised the axe and started slitting her throat slowly, savoring the act. Back in her sarcophagus she was seizing from her fear, and a very twisted one at that. Kelley's slumber was a reenactment of the time she was taken from her home in London by agents of a very influential family. At first she was to be taken to Rockfort Island to be experimented on for the Code Veronica virus. She was ripped away from her home of her parents and two older brothers, landing in a comatose state.
She woke up in a lab strapped to a table, but she wasn't the only one. Eight other children were strapped against their will under the guise of a crazed man. Alfred Ashford, heir to the family's legacy from Umbrella, was testing on the adolescent to see which one would be fit to be his sister's child. This black project was inspired by Project W, Ozwell E. Spencer's work. Alfred couldn't bare the fact he couldn't bring his sister back to life so he wanted a little playmate to play games with. Kelley nearly resembled Alexia in terms of her looks. Before she was taken, Kelley was a playful sort; her favorite game was hide and seek. It was around the year 2000 when she was only six years old. The next thing her mind was reacquainted with was being escorted by prison inmates. Rockfort Island used to be a well-known prison that ran under the Ashford name. From there, she was introduced to a vat chamber where Alexia slumbered. Alfred's voice coveted Kelley's purpose as to why she was brought to the island.
"Look my darling Alexia, isn't she an angel? The resemblance is uncanny. I am close now; the Veronica Virus will be completed soon. I was thinking…this little girl, you and me, we can start a new family. Father never truly appreciated our flourished personalities."
Kelley was back as her six year old self. Without any form of control over her actions, she was screaming and begging to be free. It brought her back haunting memories; the dying screams of other children, the wheezing sound of Alfred's voice making sickening promises while covering them up with tongue rolling words and candy.
"Be quiet child!" Alfred told her as the screaming continued. "My sister wants to hear me speak. You should be grateful. Father would have done worse; me most of all. You see sweetheart, I have been putting my head against the meat grinder for months to make my Alexia better. Dead end after dead end, soul after soul telling me I was crazy. NO, NO, NO! Crazy's too harsh a word. I tend to think of myself as a closed businessman. Now, I feel like playing a game. You like hide and seek? Well too bad; I don't want you running off."
"Just let me go! I won't tell anyone who you are."
"Behavioral dysfunction; Alexia was the controlling factor of the family. I can't have a scared little girl as our daughter. That's a big no-no. What do you suggest I do to make her feel more at home?" He asked her sister.
"I just want me mum and daddy."
"In the world we live today, nobody cares what you want. It's all about personal gain, and by god if it makes me lose all my hair, you will honor me. You will honor a father the way a daughter is supposed to. Luckily, I have something to make you respectable. Wait here."
Kelley was scared alright, but some force suddenly allowed her to speak in a different light, something Alfred wasn't expecting. As soon as he turned his back on her to go get the serum, she exhaled and said this.
"When Daniel and Tristan come looking for me, you'd best be ready; cause' they're going to kick your arse over the moon." She spoke confidently.
Alfred had a twitch about him. He was a disturbingly calm individual until a dime is flipped. He was sent over the edge with such backtalk spewed at him. He walked to his working table and picked up a glue gun. As he walked back to her with hot glue ready for use, an explosion occurred outside of the main lab complex. Kelley's brain flashed forward and showed her images of Alfred getting backhanded along with spine tingling sounds of bones breaking in many different places. It followed up by being rescued by a man wearing all black with an oxygen mask with zero emotion written all over. The voice of the man was straightforward in its delivery. He spoke of his client and that she will feel safe with him. But she didn't have the slightest clue of her second captor.
"Why is this happening to me? Where are my parents?"
"You can't go home, Kelley. The Ashford family has many eyes. Trust me on this; where you're going you will be far out of their reach."
"Is he bad?"
"His name is evil to many people, and a wealthy one at that. This man in particular is different."
"Are you bad?"
"Let's just say I'm one man death refuses to take. Stay quiet."
Between the time she was supposedly rescued, and waking up when Monica was planning a prison break, she barely remembered. Apart from meeting Alex for the first time and a few conversations from the Vessel's telepathic voice, the next five years haven't been all that eventful. One thing was for sure though, Ethan didn't lay a hand on her, and the Vessel's calming voice kept her relatively sane. Monica's dark past was a different story. Growing up in Bon Temps, having a father fighting tooth and nail to become a member of the S.T.A.R.S. organization, and losing her mind a year after Raccoon City.
At age 14, she went from a wild child who didn't harm a fly to being a wild animal. Her father, Zeke Janowitz was not heard from the T-Virus outbreak; not even a phone call from the organization confirming his death. She, her mother, and her seven year old cousin Byron were left wandering Tennessee filled with grief and questions. Monica's descent to delinquency happened when she turned sixteen. She was doing poorly in High School and just couldn't keep herself together.
Now apart from not having a curvy or a supermodel's body, she did have a lovely, natural born face. It was the one thing many guys in Bon Temps were drawn to; their instruments anyway. Her first dark memory brought her to when she was first defiled outside the school cafeteria. It was a horny senior with 321lbs of moon pies, fried chicken and biscuits. Another memory took her to the girls' locker room. Her right hand kept driving into some poor girl's face; Monica couldn't recall her name.
In fact, she didn't recall if she did anything to provoke her face to become a punching bag. Her descent went deeper and deeper when she packed her bags and left home. She slept at bus stops, downing whiskey in bar slums, all feeling like a failure. Her father meant the world to her as any loved one who went to war and didn't come back. What was even more messed up for her was the fact her family didn't get invited to the memorial service in Washington D.C. to commemorate the fallen Raccoon City Police officers and soldiers. No answers, no closure, and no form of contact with the rest of her family.
Things didn't truly get worse until she promised to have a threesome with some drunken losers while she was hitchhiking in Dallas. They wanted to have her in every conceivable way, even if it meant losing their manhood and picking pitcher shards out of their back. Juvenile Hall couldn't take her, and Tennessee didn't have a female prison to keep someone like Monica in. A few dozen fights and the blood loss of her cell mate, courtesy of an ice skating motion of a scalpel, she was brought before the female warden of the prison. Brenda her name was: 200lbs of pure old fashion expertise when dealing with troubled women.
Contrary to her Monica's standing with her, she was becoming more of a problem than she was actually worth. Brenda and five of her guards ganged up on her and wanted to see what kind of survivor she really was. She was able to take down three guards easy thanks to some agile dodging and arm breaking hits. After gaining the upper hand, she was brought back down thanks to a heavy stun baton that not only stunned her, but left nasty gashes along her back and thighs. Every hit as opposed to the seizing she was enduring in her sarcophagus, she was trying to hold out for as long as she could.
Monica hardened during her time in jail. The last thing her distraught mind brought her to was having one last go-around against Brenda before a parole officer named Daniels took her to Venezuela to meet up with Sam Travers. Images jumped and vibrated with each hit thrown at one another. It didn't end until both were on the ground. Three years in dealing with life in a female prison, building up her reputation and developing an anti-social attitude. She was finally given leave to rejoin the outside. They were both on the ground in two big pools of their own blood, inhaling and exhaling faintly.
"I won't lie. You are your daddy's girl." Brenda told her.
"You don't know shit what he was like." Monica responded while in pain.
"But I understand his character. My son...he was a soldier for S.T.A.R.S. during the viral outbreak in Raccoon City. He fought by your father's side no doubt, handling B.O.W.s. like those hunters with the long tongues. He…would have loved to see how you've grown as a survivor."
"Who the fuck are you kiddin? He would've disowned me if he found me like this."
"In these parts there is no right or wrong. In this…society there is no such thing as morality. You either survive or submit to the demons of bastardizing corporations."
"Are we done here? Am I cleared to go on this foreign mumbo-jumbo?"
Brenda smiled and said she will never be free of the prison she threw herself into. Around this time, she had forgiven Monica for the reasons that led her down this path in the first place, but at the end of the day she fought and defeated the queen of the damned, and will soon be damned when her time in Norway was over. At the time, Monica could care less about going back to prison or what was out there in the Kurinthian Temple. Now it was scaring the hell out of her. She lost partners, grew a conscience when she was bonding with a little girl and a resilient old man in the prison cells, and having a gut feeling that the fight she lost to Brenda would come back to haunt her when she and the others reached the Vault.
As she continued seizing, Damien was faced with a reality he knew in the back of his mind would come to pass, but didn't understand how much it would bring him down emotionally. Having a family abandon you at a young age and remarrying a few years later to make families of their own was a bad enough toll on his mind. It didn't really devastate him as much as feeling bitter when he reached his teen years. His grandmother, Agatha was capable in helping him through harsh realities by facing them. He found himself sitting in a moving cab on a snowy afternoon in Denver, Colorado.
Things felt bleak; perhaps a little too bleak combined with the exhaustion he was feeling. He looked at the front mirror and recognized it was the same cab driver that was complaining about his life constantly when being drove to the airport to meet up with Travers. He didn't say anything in this instance. The cab pulled up to his grandmother's house. When Damien got out, the driver apologized in a vague way, driving away soon after. With his suitcase in one hand he went up to the house door and knocked on it three times to let her know he was back.
After the third knock however, the door cracked open a bit. He got nervous entering inside; luckily the house itself was as exactly what he remembered. Agatha's den of all her artwork and college lesson plans, the faint smell of beef stew and snicker doodle cookies in the dining room, finished portraits of the things she has seen on the outside world along with other pieces that plunged the depths of the human condition; inner self type stuff. He called out her name and saying he was back; the house was too silent even for her. He dropped his bag next to the couch in the living room, and went upstairs to see if she was still sleeping. Betthany once told him over the phone before Norway that she was taking care of the tumors behind her lungs. He then stood in front of her bedroom door, saying his name softly so she wouldn't be surprised. She lied in her bed with hospital equipment all around her.
"Grandma, it's me." He said holding her left hand. "I'm sorry I left you when I did. You must think I'm no smarter than my biological parents. I accept that. You look like you're still fighting this thing; I shouldn't be surprised should I?"
She opened her eyes and had a blurry vision when she saw Damien sitting by her bedside. She had a confused look on her face as she pulled her hand away from his.
"Are you…you look like Gale's son, Tim. You should be in school you know?"
"Who's Gale?" He asked.
"You don't know your own mother? She's my doctor. After my best friend gave up on me I just refused give up myself; it's a character flaw of mine. Gale is a nice lady. You hardly get decency for house calls anymore."
"No I-I'm-I'm Damien: your grandson."
"How dare you use his name in vain?" She spoke in a harsh tone. "If I wasn't attached to freaking IV's everywhere I'd kick your ass out. I don't know who you are or how you know me; now get out of my home."
"Grandma, listen to me." Damien tried explaining.
"GET OUT!" She screamed hyperventilating soon after.
Suddenly, another person ran into the bedroom and knocked Damien out of the way to stabilize her breathing patterns. Three minutes afterwards when things got settled, Gale asked for a word of his and both walked out of the room into the hallway. She demanded to know who he was and why he was disturbing Agatha. Damien tried to make a case that he was her grandson and that he came back from a very long trip to see how she was doing. He asked if she was suffering memory loss along with the lung tumors.
Gale made it clear she didn't disclose doctor/patient confidentiality to strangers. It turned out she knew full well of her grandson and what happened to him. Gale herself didn't know all the details, but Agatha told her about how he suffered a severe chest injury that played too close to his heart. That was irony for her she told him. As soon as she spoke of the event, her voice muffled out and couldn't get a syllable of what she was saying. Damien then dropped to his knees when his eardrums felt like he was close to a mortar cannon about to be fired off. The room went disjointed as he was trying to endure the noise. When he looked up at her, she presented no reaction whatsoever.
"I need the toilet." He said pushing Gale out of the way.
The ear bleeding noise commenced until he reached the bathroom. He couldn't breathe after hearing all that. Closing the bathroom door behind him his throat closed and broke down. Damien was unable to separate what was real and what was false. Gearing towards the end to find the elixir he was missing her more than ever. Back on the Agmund leading to the Sanctum he kept throwing himself at the undead more than once and pulling embryotic sacs out left and right.
He didn't know he was capable in doing that; most of the time his kills were instinctual. When he was brought before his grandmother he felt he was finally at home yet sad she was still suffering from her heart condition. He got up from the floor and checked himself in the mirror; his chest felt moist all of a sudden. Then he heard drops falling, and pain ensued when he twisted his waist. He lifted his shirt while it fastened itself to his skin; three bloody scars that looked fresh.
His face grew with shock and suddenly the lights in the bathroom shorted out, sending his back against the wall. He acted fast when he opened the bathroom door; pain stung as his scars dragged across the hallway rug. He crawled back to his grandmother's room. She sat up and nearly sent both of them into cardiac arrest when the outside let out a cackling thunder which shook the entire house.
"I thought I told ya to leave! You should be arrested for stealing someone's identity; especially my..." She went on before realizing who Damien was finally. "Damien…"
"Grandma..." He grunted in severe pain as he latched both hands on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to get you out of here."
A quick shadow walked over Agatha's head. Under the bed, he found her cane and used it to elevate himself up. The pain went from stinging to excruciating the more he struggled supporting himself. She got out of bed like she was never sick in the first place.
"You're alright…?" He asked out of shock.
"I am. You're obviously not. I just called Gale; she'll be here soon with an ambulance."
"You recognize me, like you really see me?" He asked while being escorted.
"Of course, son; I'm dead not delirious."
"You didn't make it." Damien dreaded before turning around.
A familiar face revealed itself to him. It was in the image of one of the queens; the White Queen herself. She called him out for being slow in the perceptive department, and how he failed to stay where he belonged. Unable to make a move, he stood stiff as Venezia slid her hand down the deep scars she made claim how it was so easy to kill him. Damien filled himself up with anger and fear at the same time, mentally kicking himself for not breaking out of her bodily chokehold.
"You were never meant for this kind of world. Umbrella and its thieving mongrels turned the Earth into a chaotic theater of war. Many have tried to end the outbreaks to only face another in its place: Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Barry Burton, Jill Valentine, they carry the martyr complex. These names were branded both criminals of the few and heroes of the fewer. What are you? What purpose brought you to our temple? It matters not. But I have a feeling you and I are going to be very close in the years to come."
"I swear to god if you touch my grandmother..." He threatened her.
"You'll do what? Scowl me to death? Maybe pack on a handgun or two and shoot me a couple times as I chase you down narrow corridors in some expensive mansion. You have no further role in Maestro's plot. His elixir will disperse into the atmosphere; make mankind immune to all viruses. As for me, your conscience wants me to kill you. I am only here to see to it." She said sticking her hand inside one of the scar tissue, making him scream in pain. "If you live through this, you'd best sleep with one eye open from then on."
As soon as she was about to rip his scarred heart out, his mind came back to the confines of his sarcophagus. Dripped with sweat and crazy in his eyes, he seized and kept banging on the door to let him out. Suddenly, his coffin moved in an upright position, opening up and releasing the green smoke before he collapsed. The others ended up doing the same, all on the ground in a fetal position trying to reach an understanding about which reality they were in was real. Phylicia woke up the first three minutes after getting out of her sarcophagus.
She was the least affected by her hallucinogens; at least not in the physical area. She opened her eyes and knew they finally reached the Sanctum of Lost Riches. It was like a mini museum stocked with antiques and treasures reclaimed by Paratis Zanto. It also had some unique memorabilia that didn't look to be ancient, as if they were derived from pivotal moments since the early days of Umbrella. She turned her attention back towards the others and looked straight at Damien. Looking at her hands she told herself not to fall into the trap of what she was about to do. Carlos woke up and nearly threw up his sub from the nasty green smoke. She ran to him to see if he was okay. He faintly asked her if they reached the Sanctum followed by a relief sigh he was right.
"We finally made it. I knew it. Ay deus, this has turned into one hell of a trip." Carlos said as they both sat up.
"What was it like for you in there?" She asked him.
"Seeing your best friend get blown up in front of you for one. I could've saved him; he was near death but I didn't care. In the end, he saved me in Raccoon City. I shouldn't be tell you this." He said gathering himself. "It'll…take time for me adjust to this place again."
"The Paratis Puzzle represents suffering; that much was clear to me. But in those coffins…the green smoke acts like a hallucinogen. It peels back the layers of the human mind down to the core of a human's most horrid memories. I nearly lost myself to my past."
"Phylicia…"
"Alex found me in the temple. I was chained in darkness with nothing but the sounds of wind, and echoing pieces of this place falling to the ground. I was sixteen back then. I don't know why my father and I were taken. He would never compromise his work. He must've refused a man named Ozwell."
"I remember you telling me. Spencer left behind some vicious monsters to play with you while you were blind in the darkness. Alex came to you in the nick of time, killed them with nothing more than a crow bar and a P92F handgun. He clothed you, kept you at ease for a while, turned you into his queen. I'm not saying it has been paradise for any of us. You say he was a better man back then. Why didn't he let you go?"
"I don't know. When I became Venezia I lost a lot of my memories as a human. Things are slowly coming back though. All that matters is getting out of here." She made quite clear.
Cara, Monica, Kelley, and Damien finally woke up from their nightmares too, all feeling uneasy. Phylicia assured them the effects of the green hallucinogens would wear off in a few minutes. Damien wasn't convinced; what he saw was different. He saw her as a possible future that didn't have his grandmother in it or his own will. Suddenly, he snapped and charged at her, knocking her to the ground. He started suffocating the life out of her with blind rage written in the whites of his eyes. She kicked his chest and sent him flying back towards Monica. Carlos told her to restrain him.
"Can't you see what she is?!" He shouted, trying to break free. "She's like Maeori! It's who she is; it's all she'll ever be!"
"Jesus Walsh, take a chill pill!" Monica said.
"You can't stop her! She'll trap you until you can't escape, and rip your fucking heart out! Let...let go of me!"
"Breathe Damien." Carlos said trying to calm him down. "She's on our side!"
"That gas packed one hell of a hit, Carlos!" Monica said. "I'd say he has a right to be pissed off."
"You're not helping! Damien, listen to me! You have to calm down. The gas is making you crazy." He said keeping him in place. "It's going to pass, hermano. I promise."
Damien couldn't take the small talk so he head butted Monica's skull and pushed Carlos out of the way to finish off what he was doing. Phylicia came up with a solution and told Carlos to hold him down. Once he got him pinned on the ground once again, she placed her right hand over his hair and suddenly a darker green smoke rose out of it. It was thicker; louder too. She held it away from everyone and observed it for a second. Everyone else thought she was the crazy. She said it was a thicker hallucinogen, played out the same scene in his head just as it did hers. Only difference was, she came into her nightmare after the fact. In it, she stood over Damien's body with a blue, pulsing heart with blue blood dripping from her fingertips. She took it as a dangerous sign; a sign he would lost his humanity someday and turn into one of the undead. She crushed the smoke as it dissipated away.
"That was stuck in his head?!" Cara asked.
"Oh fuck me. I think I'm alright." Damien told Carlos as he stood up shaking his head and looking at Phylicia. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that."
"It's okay." She said.
"Goddamn Wesker." Monica brought up observantly. "He's doing everything he can so we don't reach that elixir of his. You know this place has any more weapons?"
"I hear something over there." Kelley pointed out to a dark shadow of the Sanctum.
She ran off to go take a look with Monica following behind. A certain prisoner was being kept safe thanks to a promise the Vessel made. It was too bad her husband didn't live long enough to be reunited with her. When both reemerged and joined the group, Abigail, Ethan's wife, was still alive if not worse for wear. Being in a Sanctum full of historical artifacts can really keep a person sane in these parts Abigail told them. She met the others and was assured by Carlos she was going to be kept safe. She was a middle aged Japanese-American who grew up in South Carolina. Monica was familiar with the accent, saying she had a few friends who lived there. After the pleasantries, she wanted to know where Ethan was.
"How did you get here?" Carlos asked.
"My father raised her cell and guided her to this place. Back when the Vessel had control over every aspect of the temple, he'd sometimes grant certain prisoners who simply didn't want the elixir injected into them. Abigail was one of eight humans who were sent free, but the others are long gone now."
"Thanks to me." Monica admitted in a grim tone. "I was responsible for a prison break in getting your husband and Kelley out of there. I couldn't save them all."
"And Ethan; where is he?" Abigail asked.
"He didn't make it." Kelley replied. "He wanted me to let you know he did all he could to reach you. He almost did."
"A hardened SOB he was." Monica brought up.
"Excuse me." Abigail said running off with Phylicia following behind.
Time was running against them and they didn't have the luxury to explore every inch of the Sanctum. Carlos told the others they were going to need weapons to go up against whoever was guarding the Vault's door. Everyone split up and ventured to different areas. As for the confrontation in the Vault itself, the fight was on even ground between Archer and Alex. But the whole conflict was merely buying time to prevent Alex from using the jewel.
In his own stubborn way, he still felt he could break away from the legacy his father and brother had forced on him. When it came to hand to hand combat mixed with using the elixir's remnants, Archer gained the advantage for a while. He lifted Alex in the air and slammed him all over the walls while jumping up and getting two hits until he brought him down to ground level. Alex retaliated; he grabbed Archer, head butted him and threw him towards the stairway leading to the elixir. He rolled down and tried getting back up. He sensed Alex and moved away at the last second before the ground he stood on was imploded.
He got some distance back towards the Vault door and mentally concentrated on healing himself. With all the bruises and blood coming out of his mouth, and his inability to hear on his left side he was having a hard time. Not to mention he felt the elixir boiling in the well, swirling and rising to give the Odin jewel its full power. Alex took one look at him before turning away and walking up to it. Fourth time was the charm when achieving full potential he chose to reject in the first place.
"Alex, you can't do this! You still have a conscience somewhere. Please my friend; if not for me..."
One last round was going to determine who had the better reasoning; winner takes all. Alex was getting annoyed and got wind he was just stalling for the other humans to arrive. Archer limped towards him; the human side of Alex wanted to know why he was persisting to keep the elixir from being released into the atmosphere. He said time and again his set purpose was to fulfill his father's last wish but in his own way. It was intended to make human beings morally superior while still remaining human; not the bio organic weapons Umbrella created. The fighting stopped and both looked at the floating jewel.
"That's right. Do what your surrogate couldn't do. That's what you wanted all along."
"I hear them." Alex said looking intimately into the jewel.
"I can hear them too. You're trying so hard to reject what your other side wants that it's winning. This is good. All seven Architects lie in there; their language is cryptic. It is neither Norse nor Danish. In the old times, Odin was a wise man; not just in ruling a kingdom and succeeding his own father in the battles he's won, but methodical when it came to covering his tracks. From my understanding, the Architects inherited the jewel and changed it as an ironclad tool to prevent anyone from achieving immortality. That's the reason why the undead out at sea couldn't fight back properly. The elixir itself only granted them temporary strength."
"They're telling me my own future. Each of them offers a fragment which tells a great many events. They say I'll be forever infected by my father's virus. I'm starting to think this trip I had set out years ago was all a waste."
"You knew all along? You knew about the temple's real power source and that the Architects still took precedence here. This is your last chance, Alex. Let me take care of the jewel; you walk away from this. Then again, how could you since the entire landscape is underwater? Maybe you were a swimmer in the past life. You can still make a difference out there. The tyrants of the corporate world will always overrule you in spite of your namesake. I suffered from the sting of the Ashfords; you from your father and brother. Allow me."
Alex pondered for a moment for what he wanted to do next. The voice of Spencer was not present in his head, and the Progenitor Virus compelled him still to take jewel, and gain immortality. He held out his hand waiting for a firm handshake from Archer, asking if he loved his daughter. After Archer gave his obvious answer while wondering about the question, Alex apologized for what he did to her. Why he would apologize for saving her life he asked him? Archer shook his hand and was brought close to him.
"We'll do it your way." Alex told him. "On the last fight between Wesker and Kurinthian, that will determine who controls the elixir."
"Very well; shall we begin my friend?"
Suddenly, he grabbed Archer's entire body and threw him towards the jewel. The jewel itself opened up and a large flash of light sent Alex backwards, sending the entire Vault on edge. Once it closed and set things back to normal, he gave a nod and told himself it was going to be one promising confrontation. The voice of Spencer agreed, saying Alex was becoming all he hoped he would be: perceptive and ruthless. At this point, Alex knew the things that were being said in his head weren't true. Spencer was still the bitter tyrant rotting away in his mansion no doubt; same way he left him when he stole his research and dropped off the grid. He walked back towards the edge and said "forgive me Phylicia" as he looked down at the elixir in regret. The jewel lit up in vibrant purple color and made a flowing aura all around his body. He couldn't move a muscle.
"Ventetid, hva tilsikter du å gjøre? Jeg ga Erkeopp fordi jeg ble antatt til ! Det er all del av planen, men jeg er sikker du visste det allerede."
(Wait, what do you intend to do? I gave Archer up because I was supposed to! It's all part of the plan, but I'm sure you knew that already.)
Odin's jewel finally spoke in the words of the seven Architects. The language consisted of Norse, Swedish, Danish, Finnish, all arriving on the same page that Alex's time as a human was over. It turned out they've hugged every inch of him, rendering him unable to fight or flight. This new strain of Progenitor was a curse to turn Alex into a vessel and sleep inside a mutated monster, one that has not been watching over his Progenitor Virus for some time, saw him research in how to get it out of his body and become one with the elixir. The Architects extracted their labors from the roots of his veins, manipulating it into a flowing jell. Its newfound contents surrounded him and haven't been seen since the golden age of Norse Mythology.
Their will was just, and the deed was already done with the allure of the jewel calming the beast's mind. Alex was theirs now, and with this act of justifying the means for the sake of putting someone more worthy of the jewel, Archer Kurinthian's first act as an eighth Architect was to put a stop to the rainstorm. Suddenly, jell surrounding Alex unleashed a hail of purple energy that splintered every inch of the structure holding the Vault.
14