Disclaimer: The Resident Evil characters, so not mine. Me, so no happy.
Summary: I don't think that's really necessary at this point, considering I've gone so far off the grid with this. XD Next chapter will be up very soon too. Which is totally what I should say in the summary section right after going 'Man, I don't even know what the crap I'm doing anymore.'
A/N: You all may have noticed that lot of the scenes in recent chapters are taking place at damn near the same time. I'll italicize it if it's a scene that takes place far enough back that I think it needs to be set apart. I hope you'll all be able to tell when and where things run together. Let me know if anything is unclear.
Also, Leon and Helena are the only ones with earpieces this time around, although they might not always work right... They're the only ones there officially, after all. Everyone else's access to equipment's more limited. Or so I say, for the sake of making it that much more dramatic when people are split up.
Maine, United States
Simmons Estate, Mansion 1F East
Whatever, or whoever had triggered that gate to drop in the guest house—well, that was just it. Helena had to consider it was another person's doing. Either way, she hadn't been able to raise the bars. She swore she'd flipped every switch in the house, rummaged through every cupboard and drawer before determining it was best to move on and regroup with Leon later. She couldn't afford the time and depending on where he was at the moment, he might not be able to either.
She asked, "You still okay?" trying to sound breezy, or least calm. Hoping her nerves couldn't be transmitted wirelessly, along with her words.
Leon was far enough away by then they had to communicate remotely. He'd confirmed everything was fine and he was moving forward at a good pace but that he didn't like the look of what he was seeing wherever the hell he was.
Helena had offered a less-than-enthusiastic, "Yeah, I bet," and followed it up with, "I'm heading back outside, for the main house. I'll find a way down below and we'll meet up."
Leon's response, thick with static but still understandable, was, "You see her first, you take her. You got it, Helena? Colette Simmons is priority one."
With a simple, "Got it," Helena continued forward.
The fog had gotten thicker in the short time she and Leon had been inside. It was damp and a little chilly but it was quiet, at least. The shiver that traveled the length of her spine when she reached the main gate had little to do with the temperature, though.
Open. Unlocked and open. Helena could tell by looking at the keypad it had been forced, too. No security in sight. She couldn't help but wonder the kind of evil it would take to be the enemy of the Simmons family. She knew better than to hope her fellow intruders were allies.
'The enemy of my enemy...' It was a nice theory but it didn't often pan out.
Didn't make that Ada woman anymore of an ally, did it? Neutral, at best. Well, she was Leon's to deal with, either way. Whoever she really was, whatever her agenda really was.
That BSAA captain either. Chris Redfield was someone who truly should have been on the same side as they were but she couldn't help having some reservations about the man...
Helena made her way to the front entrance to find a similarly tampered with keypad. She eased the front door open and slowly stepped inside.
High ceiling, long, curved, carpeted staircase leading to the east, and a huge, million-bulb chandelier. Fantastic. Sure didn't look like sneaking around in the shadows was gonna be easy. Still, Helena had her mission—missions, rather. Reunite with Leon and bring Colette Simmons in for questioning, after conducting a thorough investigation of the premises. They couldn't hold her for long, or charge her with anything if there was no evidence of wrongdoing. Gathering said evidence was as important, if not more important than finding the woman herself at this point.
Time to start looking then. Helena crossed the main hall, passing through a thick, sturdy polished door into a dimly lit hallway and closed the door behind her. This was quite a change considering where she'd just come from.
She knew she'd have to search every room, not knowing where she might find just the clue she'd need. Nothing special about this room, though. A sun room. Probably more impressive during the day, but at night it was just creepy. Maybe if the windows weren't almost entirely covered in vines. Maybe if it weren't overlooking a giant stone wall. It'd seem like less of a sick joke, at least.
Determining there was nothing of use, Helena passed through the door on the other end of the room and into the next hallway. She resisted the urge to reach for her earpiece and ask Leon 'Is it creepy as hell on your end, too?' mostly because she already knew the answer.
The only door on the right side of the hallway Helena had just entered was the one she'd just come through. To the left, however, were three doors, equally spread apart. One end of the hallway stopped, abruptly, marked only by a plain wall with a framed painting hung on it. At the other end was a narrow staircase, much more modest than the one in the main hall.
Before Helena could ponder what was behind each door, she heard a male voice complaining, "Another dead end?"
There was something familiar about the voice but she couldn't quite place it. Whoever he was, she'd see his face soon enough. She could hear his footsteps on the stairs. His and one other set, presumably those belonging to whomever he was speaking to. By their conversation, Helena guessed they were the ones who'd hacked the main gate's security system—those 'enemy of my enemy' types she had a feeling she'd be running into sooner or later.
"Can't say I'm that surprised. We'll just have to find another way."Helena had no trouble placing that voice.
Picador aimed, she waited for whoever was in front to round the corner. Good, it was him. "Chris Redfield."
Maine, United States
Simmons Estate, B1 Lab
Leon moved forward, able to keep a good pace, thanks to the fact there was no resistance. It was shaping up to be like the complex below the Tall Oaks Cathedral, though smaller in size and minus the infection. The Simmons family must've had tons of places like this around the country, around the world. This one just happened to still be in working order. The underground seemed to be a mix of supply rooms, cells, and research rooms. Leon knew he was getting closer to something by the sound of female voices speaking back and forth.
He could only hope one of them was Colette. He reached for his earpiece. "Helena," he called out, though he couldn't risk much more than a whisper, as he inched forward.
There was no response.
"I may have her. I've gotta move up and confirm it's really her, though."
Still no response.
Leon shook his head and with no choice but to move on without any reply from his partner, he stepped up.
The door separating him from whoever the women were was thick but had a small open slot near the top. At least he'd be able to hear what was going on inside and get a feel for the situation before busting in.
It was the only door nearby for quite a stretch, so Leon took that to mean the room was pretty big.
"Don't they look cozy," one female voice mused. She sounded pretty pleased with herself.
"Yes Ma'am. They all took to the procedure. The concern was that they would display resistance to the original virus because of the similarities between both strains. But as you can see, they've all entered Chrysalid form." The second voice was higher, definitely coming from a younger woman, and a subordinate.
The first woman was either Colette herself, or someone damn high up on the Simmons family totem pole. Her nonchalant, "Excellent. I'd have expected no less from you. I'd also have accepted no less," confirmed it.
"If I had more time, I could devise a method of replication using the enhanced virus alone. She may have been working at something similar herself, and just wasn't able to complete the research before she—"
"There is no time," the older, obviously in-charge female insisted, her tone clipped.
"Yes Ma'am. Anyway, there's no way to know what their complete mutations will be," the young, high-pitched voice admitted, regretfully. "I know that's not the focus of the experiment but—"
"That doesn't concern me," the older voice interrupted, flippantly. However, she was far more serious when she continued, "As long as it works on Piers Nivans, and you've assured me it will."
What the hell was being done inside that room? On this island? And what the hell did it have to do with Chris's partner?
"It should, Ma'am."
"It should?"
"Well, I—we can't know for certain until we actually conduct the experiment on him. But this proves that someone—they prove that someone infected with the enhanced C-virus isn't completely immune to the original C-virus because the primary difference between the two strains was the elimination of the Chrysalid state in achieving a complete mutation."
There was a long pause before the high-pitched voice continued speaking.
"He neither achieved complete mutation, nor was he ever exposed to the component of the virus that causes one to transform into a Chrysalid in the first place. It should work." Leon knew he'd better pay attention; something important was being explained.
As if he'd been able to do anything but listen; there was no way around hearing this. Even if he didn't know what it all meant just yet.
"Should, should, should. I'm beginning to think I should use you as a test subject. It would certainly put my mind at ease."
"You need me, Ma'am," the younger one pleaded.
"I need your research, equipment, and the virus. I have all of those things. And Piers Nivans. I'll have him soon enough, too."
Leon could hear high-heeled footsteps followed by a door opening and closing; luckily it wasn't the one he was standing right next to. No, there was another exit to that room and someone had used it. It was likely the woman in charge. Colette. He was sure it was her. So he'd have to chase her down after all. Least it gave him time to get some answers out of the researcher girl. She seemed like she'd be pretty easy to crack. She'd just been rattled by the boss, after all. He also needed to see what was in that room.
Leon gave it a moment before swinging the door open and stomping in, gun raised, demanding, "Hands up. Agent Kennedy, United States government."
The girl—God, she looked like a kid—let out a little squeak and insisted, "I wasn't doing anything!"
"The hell you weren't," Leon said, with a groan.
How old was she? How old wasn't she was a better question. Her brown hair was split into low pigtails and her big green eyes stared at Leon from behind a pair of Clark Kent style glasses. Beneath her oversized lab coat she wore a Talk Nerdy to Me t-shirt and faded jeans.
Leon glanced around. It really did look like Tall Oaks. Computer panels, a couple of gurneys, and oversized cages. The cages were full. Occupied with rocky, human-shaped cocoons. Must've been all that Chrysalid business the researcher girl and the woman Leon had since decided was Colette were talking about.
"Was that Colette Simmons you were talking to?" Might as well confirm it.
"How did you know?" Pale green eyes blinked, as if trying to chase away the curiosity twinkling within them.
Good. Next question. "Who are these people?" Leon pointed to the chrysalids.
"They worked the grounds here. I can't tell you these things—" The girl shook her head. She backed away a few steps but didn't attempt to run.
Well, that helped explain the lack of security. Leon didn't say anything out loud about it, though. Instead, he attempted to bargain with the girl, "If you're worried about your boss finding out, don't be. She's gonna be coming with me. I can't promise you full immunity but I'll do what I can if you cooperate."
"If I betray her I won't live that long."
"Sounds like you're already on her shit list—" Leon stopped himself. He was waiting for the girl to give her name.
Instead, she fiercely shook her head. Seemed she had a little fight in her after all.
Leon insisted, "I need to know what's going on here."
Now she was crossing her arms. "I think it's pretty obvious," was the girl's attempt at a blow-off. Or maybe to look strong.
"I know these guys were infected to make sure whatever she's planning to do to Piers Nivans works. Question is: what's she planning to do to Piers Nivans, and why him, anyway?"
This girl knew the answer. Stubborn as she might pretend to be, Leon knew she was still his best, and possibly his only option. Colette'd lawyer up right away. Who else could he ask? Even anyone with a connection to Piers was unlikely to have an answer for him.
Unless...
Did Ada know? Was that why she'd high-tailed it out of that facility in China and taken Piers with her? Was that why those Suits were after the two of them back there? Was it Colette Simmons who'd sent them? Hunnigan said she'd been snooping around for info on Neo-Umbrella facilities overseas, specifically in China...
Leon knew there was an enhanced version of the C-virus. That bit of overheard information wasn't news to him. He'd heard it from Sherry, who had found out about it while she and Jake were held captive at that same facility in China. She hadn't been able to provide a sample, but she did back up all of Jake's data files.
Those files detailed six months worth of experimenting to improve the virus. There was no telling how many samples were actually out there, though, or how long it took, not to mention what it took to create one.
Colette Simmons had undoubtedly gotten her hands on a sample and had managed to produce more of the virus from it, thanks to this girl. It was simple: Colette had the money, the manpower, and the desire to do so. The only thing that seemed lacking was the time. How and when did she get her hands on a sample?
He had an idea and he didn't like it. Everything pointed to Ada.
"When did you get the sample?" Leon asked, suddenly, and roughly.
Leon's tone must've scared the researcher girl because she jumped, and very quickly responded, "July, first couple of weeks."
"How?" Leon demanded, refusing to let up. Least he was gettin' some answers outta her now.
"I don't know." Or not.
"Bullshit."
She wasn't letting up, either, though. "I swear, I don't know."
"Who did it come from?"
"I don't know any of Ms. Simmons' associates. I hardly get out of the lab."
Leon shrugged and shook his head. She was probably telling the truth. Her complexion certainly supported the statement.
"I just know that's when she brought it to me and made me get to work on extracting a viable sample of the virus."
"Viable sample?" Leon repeated the girl's words, almost unconsciously. "What was wrong with it?"
"It wasn't pure; it was a blood sample from someone who'd been infected. It still worked. I—I did it. I was able to manufacture the virus for Ms. Simmons and complete a genetic profile of the subject."
"Piers Nivans?" Leon guessed.
"How did you know?"
Before Leon could respond, they both heard it: footsteps approaching from the hallway outside where he'd entered from.
"Hang on," Leon instructed, heading for the door.
He peered through the open slot. He'd wait for whoever it was to make it a few steps past so he could come at them from behind. He stood so he could see the face of whoever was approaching, not that it would matter.
Or so he thought, until it was Jake Muller's face that came into view.
Maine, United States,
Simmons Estate, 1F Guest Bedroom
"Agent—" Chris's voice trailed off when it became clear he didn't know Helena's name.
"Harper. What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
"I'm not here officially," Chris answered. It almost seemed like he was trying to appease her.
Piers stepped up next to Chris, eyeing Helena with a certain amount of suspicion. He didn't say anything.
Helena managed a chuckle. "Yeah, that's pretty obvious," she remarked, looking Piers over. She recognized him as the same partner Chris had been working with in Lanshiang, but...
Wasn't he listed among the casualties? He'd been wounded, that was obvious from one look at his right side. Well, he clearly wasn't dead, but he'd lost his right arm, and whatever had taken it had left some scars—mostly on his neck and along the jaw line. Still, there was an intensity in his eyes that couldn't be ignored—a determination that couldn't be denied. It was probably that very stubbornness that'd gotten him wounded in the first place.
Not that Helena was one to talk.
"Well," Helena began. "I am here officially. Leave now and I'll pretend I never saw you."
"That's not gonna happen." Piers was the one to refuse.
Helena couldn't pretend to be surprised. She saw a certain amount of herself in him. Even if she was impressed with his resolve, she just couldn't allow this right now.
"You here alone, in addition to being here officially, Agent Harper?" Chris asked.
"Of course not," Helena replied.
"I'm not leaving without finding her," Piers insisted. Helena couldn't help but notice that it seemed more like he was talking to Chris though he stared at her as he spoke.
Helena was compelled to point out, "My orders are to bring one Colette Simmons in. I can't allow anyone to interfere with that."
"I'm not talking about her," Piers muttered.
Wait, what?
Chris jerked his head to the side, to the closest door in the hallway they now occupied. It was his way of suggesting they duck in there and sort things out.
Helena nodded. Cooperating with Chris and Piers probably wasn't the best idea but it was preferable to working against them. At the very least she might be able to get some information out of them.
The door was unlocked, its wobbly knob threatening to fall off as Helena pushed it open and stepped inside. It creaked on its rusty hinges both when it was opened and when Piers closed it behind them after they were all inside. The trio allowed themselves a moment to look around. Looked like they were in a guest bedroom, or what had been one at some point.
The lone window was barred, the metal hugged by dead, dried vine. Some rogue ivy had even begun to creep into the room starting at the windowsill. Most of the vines were dried and withered but a few fresh, bright, vibrant green leaves grew at the tips.
The room was rather empty for its size; it was larger on the inside than expected. Its only furnishings were a double bed in the middle, a small bureau, a bookshelf, and a few chairs. The room was void of a TV and any other modern amenities. A small, worn rug had been placed in front of the oddly arranged bookcase. All but one row was empty and it was stuffed.
Piers headed for the bookcase, glancing over the titles that lined the only shelf that was getting any use. Classics—old, beat-up copies, most of them.
"So you're here with Leon?" Chris guessed.
Helena didn't respond. That in itself was a giveaway.
"Thought so." Chris chuckled. "Where is he?"
"We were separated." Since Chris had figured it out, there was no use hiding it anymore. There wasn't much to figure out, anyway.
Piers spoke up suddenly, though he didn't look back as he asked, "Did she tell him to come here?"
"I'm here on official business, in case you both forgot. She who?" Helena's surprise over the question was genuine.
"Didn't get any intel from an anonymous informant that led to this official business of yours?" Piers continued, from his position at the bookshelf.
"Anonymous informant? You talking about Ada Wong, Piers?" Chris was the one to ask. Helena couldn't help but notice the way he sort of gritted his teeth when he spoke her name.
"What does she have to do with any of this?" she asked. She stopped herself rather quickly, though, almost before she'd even finished her question.
Ada Wong, huh? No denying the woman had plenty of information about the Simmons family, and that Derek Simmons had some creepy obsession with her. The nonsense he was shouting while they unloaded everything they had into him and then some was proof of it.
Ada and Simmons had a past, alright. Then again, so did Leon and Ada.
Bringing her finger to her ear, Helena asked, "Leon, where are you?"
No answer.
After a moment, Helena resigned, "He's not responding." She took a moment before adding, "If there's a connection, we'll find it. Get out of here already. He's not fit to be in the field, officially or not. You know that."
"I know," Chris agreed.
Helena couldn't help but notice the guilt in Chris's voice. It was the first time she'd really seen him show emotion. Besides wanting to kill a key witness in a fit of rage the first and only other time they'd met, that is. Whatever had happened to his partner... It was obvious Chris blamed himself. Then why the hell would he have let him come into a place like this in his condition?
"I'm standing right here," Piers muttered. He still wouldn't face either Chris or Helena. He holstered his gun—a pistol, no more using weapons he couldn't fire one-handed—and ran his index finger along the spine of a particular book. It stood out against the others. It was... different than the rest.
"I'm not going anywhere, Agent Harper," Chris spoke again, no hint of remorse in his voice this time—just steadfast determination. "Neither is he."
"Thanks, Captain," Piers said, quietly, though he was easily heard. He reached for the book he'd been eyeing. He'd hardly pulled it from the shelf before the floor beneath him opened up and he disappeared from sight.
The trap door had already closed before Chris or Helena had any hope of reaching Piers. Chris's useless cry of, "Piers!" hardly spanned the same amount of time. The only proof Piers been with them just seconds before was the book he'd grabbed hold of; that was undoubtedly what had sprung the trap in the first place. Even the rug that'd been covering the trap door had gone with him.
Resurrection. Tolstoy. Helena hadn't read it. The title itself was a little unnerving, though, for the way it forced her, yet again, to consider that Derek Simmons might not really be dead. From what she'd seen... How could his return be anything other than a resurrection?
Something about the book must've struck a chord with Piers, too, the way he'd reached out to it. He probably didn't anticipate he'd fall through the floor for grabbing at it, though.
A/N: I gave such a garbage excuse for why Piers might not be immune to the cloning process. Awesome. Kinda like needing a new flu vaccine every year because there's a different strain to contend with or something. FLU EQUALS C-VIRUS in DonutMistress land. I make myself LOL. I'm gonna sit back and think about how Derek Simmons mutated into a dinosaur to make myself feel better about the things I come up with. Mostly how at least THAT wasn't one of them.
Back on the subject of Piers, though, I think he needs to come across Ada soon...
Oh, and I read that there were 12,000 plus failed attempts to recreate Ada between 1998 and 2009 when Carla was used and it finally worked. I don't think that means the process itself takes so long, I think it's just the need for having the right subject.:)