A/N-You know what I hate? The flu.Argh, I've got it right after I had gotten rid of it last week. So here I am, too sick to do my homework but well enough to write another chapter. Go figure. Anyhow, while my homework slowly starts piling up I'm going to write more on this chapter. I've put off updating it long enough and I feel quite creative today. I hope you all have been enjoying my story so far. It's not like regular self-insertions. I wanted it be something thoroughly unique and a breath of fresh air.
Resident Evil © Capcom
My Plague
"Morir es vivir.Morir es vivir."
The haunting chant lit up the large room. Candles lined the perimeter and the wax dripped off the wall sconces onto the stone floor far below. A raised altar had been settled on the second floor of the massive room while a massive pulsating plant-like Plaga took up half the wall, tendrils occasionally bursting out from the "petals" of the plant, viscous liquid, thick and slimy, dropped onto the person chained to the altar. A shriek of absolute horror came from the girl shackled on the altar. The person in question was Lenore, frightened out of her wits at the ritual she was the center of! Her heart was hammering and she could feel bile rising at the back of her throat. The foreboding priest Saddler, royal purple hood hanging halfway down his face and shielding his white eyes from sight, hovered over her, his black-nailed hand held above Lenore's forehead.
The cultists, clad in red and black habits, some with ox skulls, stood behind their leader. The chant had reached a fevered pitch as Saddler's parasite-enhanced staff twitched and flailed its small tentacles. The bloodshot eye stared sightlessly ahead, blinking once every minute. Though the eyes of the cult leader went unseen, the twisted smile on his face was apparent. He hovered his hand over Lenore, his prayers were different than the monk's chanting behind him and seemed to be causing the American woman a lot of pain as she squirmed and wailed in the middle of the altar. He broke the string of prayers long enough to acknowledge the ninth castellan in English," After this ritual, you will be one of us! You shall finally fulfill your family's duties in protecting Las Plagas. I will teach you everything you need to know, Lenore!"
Another ear-splitting shriek escaped the girl's mouth as she struggled to sit up, the shackles on her wrists and ankles digging into her skin. She winced in pain and squirmed to get away from the vulnerable position she was in. She had been dressed in a white ritual robe that was a few sizes too big for her petite body. A Los Illuminados insignia had been stitched onto the right breast in red thread while ornate spiral patterns decorated the bottom of the robe. She let out a whine," I-I'm not interested! I just want to go home! Let me go home!"
Saddler gave a chuckle," This is your home now. Soon you will forget about ever living in that headstrong country of America."
Lenore was about ready to beg again when she felt slimy tentacles wrap around her waist. The leader pulled out a black key and unlocked each shackle just as more thick tentacles grabbed each arm and each leg, a few more slithering around the waist. A scream hung in the large room as her body got pulled off the altar. Her blue eyes surveyed the sadistic cult as they stared up at her. Saddler gave a small wave, a smirk lining his face. Lenore cried out as the Queen Plagas drew her in," No! Noo!! Help me! Hel-"
And then it faded to black…
Lenore sat straight up in her bed, sweat trickling down her face as she was greeted with darkness. A purple curtain had been drawn around her four poster bed, shielding her from even discovering what room she was in. She gave out a long sigh, wiping the sweat off her face," A dream. It was nothing more than a horrible nightmare!"
With quivering hands she poked a button on her watch to see what time it was. The small face of the watch glowed, letting her see. 4:25 pm, November 14. She stared at the date in shock. November 14?! The last time she had checked the date it was on the 12. Have I been asleep for two days? She thought incredulously to herself. That couldn't be right. She felt the apprehension rising again. At first Lenore thought about she might have accidentally set her clock wrong. No, she knew the watch's date was right. Her eyes narrowed as she thought about the nightmare. Was that all it was or…? Wasting no time, the diminutive woman tore the curtain back on the bed and stepped out, desperate to see what was wrong. The first thing she took notice to was how full of energy she felt. No pains from the parasite. Quickly she pulled her left hand up to her face to check to see how the nasty knife wound had healed.
"Gone?!" she couldn't help herself from thinking out loud. There was no sign whatsoever of where she had been stabbed through the hand. She turned it over, checking to see if she was hallucinating. Another thing she took notice to was how white her skin had become. Lenore was naturally pale, but now her skin had a deathly pale color to it. Her heart's rate increased as she noticed her clothes. An oversized white ritual robe. "No," Lenore choked out, "No. This isn't right!"
Her eyes darted around the room for a mirror to see what was wrong with her. Lenore's search proved fruitless as she darted out of the room, shoving the door open with her shoulder to run out into the long hallway. Something was wrong, very wrong and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. Her footsteps were quiet on the carpeted floors as she searched for a room that bore a mirror. Each room she came upon, though ornate in detail, lacked the looking glass she so desperately was searching for. Lenore's mind was buzzing; a low whistle could be heard in her ears as she went farther down the hallway. The entire castle was a damn labyrinth, each turn and twist losing the girl even further. Slamming a door open as she shoved it open with her foot she saw what she was looking for. It was a very large gilded mirror set haphazardly in the corner of the old room. Old crates and boxes had been shoved into the room that looked as if it went unused for years. A fine film of dust lined the cabinets and boxes. A heavy suit of armor had clattered down onto the floor, the helmet looked as if it had been battered with a blunt object and the visor was broken. The details of the room weren't one of Lenore's top priorities.
Clamboring over boxes and squeezing her way between the narrow gaps, she finally made her way to the mirror. The reflection that stared back at her left her in disbelief. The blond haired, blue eyed girl from New York City was no longer reflected in the mirror as usual. The blond hair she had been so proud of was now gray, flecked with the occasional strand of silver. Her beautiful light pink skin that she took care of by washing twice a day had now an almost whitish-gray tone to it, like a corpse. Signs of age lined her face as well as dark circles under her eyes. Her plump naturally red lips now had a purplish shade to them. What struck Lenore as most frightening were her eyes. The cerulean blue that she had inherited from her mother's side of a family were now a dark yellow. Her arms hung limp by her sides as she stared back at her reflection in the mirror. She drew closer to the mirror, her weak knees making it hard to move as she touched at her face, lowering her bottom eyelid to look at the red veins that ran in her eyeball. Her eyebrows were gone completely, giving her a sinister look. Her knees finally gave out as she dropped to her rump on the floor in front of the large mirror. Saddler had won; it was as simple as that. Whether or not Lenore wanted to admit it she was now the personal property of the cult.
She grew angry as she weakly slammed a fist into the mirror, sending little hairline cracks throughout the glass. Where had Luis been during all this?! He had promised her he was going to get the pills to her and save her from a life of servitude. Her hands shaking, Lenore brought them up to her eyes as she fought off angry tears. Something should have told her it was a bad idea the minute she saw those robed monks at the airport. A sense of adventure had gotten her royally screwed! She was angry at herself, angry at Luis, and pretty much angry at anyone she could throw the blame to. Lenore took a few deep breaths and steadied herself as she stood up. She gave one last fleeting look at her horrendous image in the mirror before she left the room in silence.
The bottom of the robe dragged the ground as Lenore hung her head, gray hair obscuring her left eye as she went to search for her clothing. Like hell she was going to wear anything associated with the cult! Her mind wandered to how she had gone from getting stabbed by the traitorous American to waking up two days later. She had no memory of passing out. In fact, she had no memory of anything after that. She was itching to figure out what happened in that gap of time. A person wouldn't simply pass out with little or no warning and wake up two days later. Would they? While thinking it over, Lenore chewed on her bottom lip. Whether it was subconsciously or not, Lenore made her way back to the bedroom that held her luggage and other personal belongings. The sooner she was out of the robe the better she hoped she'd feel. She lifted her gaze, giving a yelp at what she saw. There was a man rummaging through her luggage!
"H-hey!" Lenore stammered," What do you think you're doing?!" She balled up both her fists, drawing cautiously closer. A very large brown backpack was slung over the man's back and his face was hidden by the hood drawn up over his head and a ratty purple cloth pulled over his mouth and nose. About the only part of the man that wasn't hidden were his red eyes. The suspicious looking thief took no notice to the bewildered woman as she yelled at him once more," Get your filthy hands out of my clothing!"
A raspy chuckle emitted from him as he spun around, a magnum revolver that went by the name of Broken Butterfly was held firmly in his grip as he countered on Lenore. That caused her to give a squeak of fright as she quickly threw both hands high in the air to signify she was unarmed. He eyed the Castellan warily before noticing the authentic terror in her eyes and lowered the weapon," The bastard got to ye too, huh? Don't cha worry, stranguh. I was jus' checkin' ye goods to see if'n there was anything o'value. I ain't gonna harm ye. Please, call me th'Merchant."
His accent was clearly Cockney in nature, which had Lenore curious as to why he was in a Spanish village in the middle of nowhere. The Merchant didn't seem like he meant her any ill-will. Slowly Lenore lowered her hands to cross them defensively over her chest. It didn't make her feel any better that he was rummaging through her cloths to find valuables. The Merchant certainly did seem different than the cultists she had seen so many of. Lenore studied the man as she inquired," If you have that bug in your system how come you're not, y'know?"
The Merchant smiled under the purple cloth that hid his mouth from view," Not followin' Saddler around like a trained dog?" He shrugged his wide shoulders," I'm not sure t'tell ye the truth. P'raps its got somethun' t'do with free will. I have no plans t'kiss his feet any time soon either. I have a feelin' you have no intentions t'do that just like me, eh?" That was followed up with another chuckle. He kept his gaze on Lenore's yellow eyes," But I fear ye have no choice. Ah, the parasite you have is no Servant Plagas, though. Ye might have a chance t'fight him more than the Ganadoes running around in th'village."
Lenore felt like she was being scrutinized by the Merchant and brought her eyes down to stare at the white robe that hung loosely around her body. She spoke, keeping her head down at her toes," So I have a better chance of keeping my free will? I haven't been fighting off that creep's control successfully yet."
The Merchant shook his head, "No, ye're not listenin'. Every minute ye're away from him th'man has no control over ye. An' if I've been eavesdropping correctly, Saddler needs ye for more than jes' another brainwashed follower. It's yer family that has th'control over Las Plagas! Have ye noticed the ugly ol' staff he carries aroun'? The man can't naturally control the parasites like yer family has done fer centuries! Ye have th'upper hand!"
That piqued her attention as Lenore looked up at the Merchant. She put a finger to her chest," I've got control over those parasites…? How?"
The man shrugged once more," I'm not sure. I jes' know that the Salazar's sealed up Las Plagas long ago. P'raps ye can try t'do that, too. It's worth a shot, right?"
Lenore nodded her head. Her tone no longer sounded doubtful. There was an edge of confidence to it," Yes. You're right. If I can just learn how then that will cut off the creep's control to those parasites. I should be the one with absolute control then." She smiled up at the Merchant and walked past him, grabbing out her familiar black clothing. Al it would take was getting to learn a little more from that freak Saddler, playing like she was his little lap dog, and then crushing him underfoot like the bug he is. Lenore knew that would take a lot of effort, but she was willing to go the distance if it meant it would free her from the man's cold grasp. A nervous thought hit her, however, that she'd have to work under a ticking clock. The longer she had Las Plagas in her, the stronger Saddler's influence over her would grow. She allowed herself a smirk as she left the Merchant in the room. He was the one that had inspired her to truly go through with the act, so she would have to give him something valuable. Hell, the entire castle was filled with riches so that would be easy.
She gripped the clothes tight to her chest, her head held up a little higher. There was a swagger in her step and a sense of purpose. If her family had stopped Los Illuminados long ago, she'd do them proud and stop it once more. It was just coming up with the right time to act and going through with it. Lenore knew she couldn't act alone and her mind travelled to Luis Sera. He had been with her since the beginning and his goal was the same as hers. "Find Luis and get the ball rolling. I'll do it, I will," Lenore assured herself, disappearing into a small bathroom to get back into clothes she felt comfortable in. She narrowed her eyes," I'll destroy that cult and return home. I'll never go out of Manhattan again!"
A/N- It took me the better part of the day to write this one chapter. I've been sick as a dog and went through a box of tissues. Ugh, I feel like crap but writing this chapter took my mind off the suffering I'm going through. I'm hopped up on cold medicine and not completely coherent. I wanted to introduce the Merchant. When I started writing this story in October, I knew I was going to introduce him! Anyways…we have finally reached the middle of the story. Things are going down! And I quote Peggy Hill, "Ho yea!"