Chapter 14: Hello, Goodbye

Hmmm. The woman seemed quite torn by her partner's death, but what were they thinking standing in the open like that? Johann leveled a second shot at Claire, but she dodged the bullet. Apparently Crimson was not acting as quickly as he'd been led to believe; but this is what happens when you rely on someone else, he thought as he reloaded his gun. He worked for scientists and businessmen, but if they were as powerful and untouchable as they believed, then they wouldn't need the help of someone like him. They were all mortal, and he was a killer that danced to the tune of their wallets. He didn't give a shit about their plans to control the world with viruses, although he wouldn't mind getting his hands on whatever was in Claire's system.

Look at her go. She had sprinted into the warehouse, but he detected the wobble in her steps. She was slowing down, and he was just getting started. He smiled with satisfaction as he swung his rifle over his back and pulled out a long knife. She would run and wear herself down, making it easier for Crimson to incapacitate her. He'd play with her to help the process along, maybe shed some blood—injure her so that she could be restrained. Two of his assistants had been killed trying to take her, but that's what backup was for. He radioed in a request and began descending the stairs near his perch.

He meandered across a steel beam and through a window into the building where Claire was hiding. He could not hear or see her, but he was sure that she was close by. She would lay in wait for him, for she had no choice when she was weaponless and needed to kill him. Superhuman or not, Johann was confident. He was very good at what he did, and he was a man who appreciated a challenge after so many easy kills.

He kept to the upper walkways as he scanned the ground below for his target. If he were her, he'd hide over there, near the old engines. The metal bulks were arranged in columns and rows with short passageways between them. It was the perfect spot for an ambush, if she was as clever as he credited her with, that is. He soundlessly strode down the stairs and along the rim of the engines. He lifted an old metal crowbar and threw it, waiting for a response.

There was a soft dragging sound to his left, like someone moving heavily against a wall. Johann knew death when he sensed it, and he smiled. This was his favorite part.

He crept up behind where he had heard the noise and peered between several metal gears. Claire was slumped against one of the engines while admirably controlling her labored breathing. There was vomit on the floor beside her, and she had her eyes closed with her head tilted backward against the wall. She seemed unaware, but Johann had already seen this trick. If she wanted to play dirty, he would accommodate her.

"How's it going, Claire?" The woman's eyes snapped open and zoned in on him. He was directly in her line of vision, bolding standing with his hands in his pockets and smiling at her. He knew how charming and innocent his smile looked, for he'd perfected the art, and he watched as Claire glared at him. She was trying to figure out what he was up to, but Johann gave no clues.

"My, my, don't you look a mess," Johann chided with a playful head toss to get hair out of his face. Claire looked horrible with blood and dirt smearing her body. "But I bet you clean up nicely," Johann commented as he winked at her. And then he quickly moved to vanish among the engines, leaving Claire to turn in circles. Meanwhile, he turned on the electronic signal attached to his belt. It would send his location to the approaching vehicles so that they'd easily locate him and Claire.

He was back on the upper levels with his rifle ready for action. He had seen the anger in Claire's eyes, and he knew better than to tango with that. She was a horror when angry, from what he could tell. So he'd keep his distance and wear her out this way. There was no sense risking unnecessary, bodily injury, and he was wearing a brand new, Armani suit, and he didn't want blood on.

He followed Claire as she gingerly stepped out from behind an engine and began running for an adjoining room. She was in the open now, and Johann fired. Claire's left shoulder whipped her around. Johann fired again; Claire's right leg buckled and she fell to the ground. She screamed in pain and frantically located her assailant. Now her eyes were burning with barely controllable emotions. Johann was pleased that he'd decided to keep his distance as he reloaded and she tried to stand. Her efforts quickly failed and she was on the ground, vomiting into the blood around her feet.

Johann fired.

***********

Wesker listened to the shots firing and his pace quickened with urgency. He had not counted on Lance using a poison against Claire, and she wasn't prepared for it since she hadn't answered her damn phone. If he wasn't fast enough and had to chase after Claire to one of the Agency's labs, he was going to be extremely annoyed. But trailing with that thought was also concern over Claire's safety. Researchers didn't need much time to do major damage, and crimson hadn't been tested on subjects as powerful as either him or Claire. He had no idea what it would do to her.

Someone screamed, and he instantly recognized the voice as Claire's as it reverberated down the halls with pain and frenzy. He had never heard her scream before. When she was angry, surprised, fighting—during those events he had heard her yell, but never scream. She had always obstinately bitten back the urge, as if admitting pain was unacceptable for her opponents to see, but now she was screaming.

Wesker didn't bother opening doors. He brutally destroyed them and cleared a path until he finally barged into a large room with heavy equipment and suspended walkways. His attention fastened on the woman at the center of the room. She was laying in her own vomit and blood and pushing herself upward with shaky hands. A bullet ripped through her remaining, unharmed leg as she managed to stand, and she was on the floor again with another scream. Her powers weren't kicking in and her wounds weren't healing as quickly as they should have been. Wesker could only assume that crimson was taking its toll on Claire.

Behind the sunglasses, his redness glinted maliciously, and his face twisted into anger in a rare show of his thoughts. He was not one to let emotions tamper with his actions, but he was furious, and someone was unquestioningly going to die. The pained, frustrated expression on Claire's face did not belong there. She was the picture of defeat, yet she still struggled to stand, propelled onward by that dear heart of hers. She was better than the man destroying her. That psychopath, Johann Mauler, stood on the walkway above her like a man at a shooting gallery. It was the last time that his sadism would scar anyone.

Wesker took side stairs and was soon on Johann's level, completing dismissing secrecy as he advanced. The killer, whose vision pulled back from his gun and locked on the dark, approaching figure, did not miss the cruel set of Wesker's mouth. Still, the gun did not immediately turn as Wesker drew closer, and Johann sized up his opponent. This was the legendary Albert Wesker—bane of Michael Lance's existence. No doubt Lance's hound considered himself lucky to bag two prizes in one day, but he recognized a dangerous man when he saw one.

"Albert Wesker," Johann greeted. "How nice of you to join us." The gun turned and fired as Wesker attacked. He heard the satisfying sound of breaking bones as he hit Johann, and then he grabbed the man's neck. The knife that was stabbed into Wesker's heart didn't even faze him as he pulled off his sunglasses. The red was scourging but didn't bother Johann, who defiantly met Wesker's gaze and told him that intimidation wouldn't work. These were his last breaths, and Johann would not depart as a coward.

"Goodbye, Herr Mauler," Wesker levelly stated. Bones snapped and Johann's body was tossed off of the walkway like useless garbage. Then Wesker jumped from the railing and landed with a loud clatter on the floor below. His hands were on Claire, gently turning her over so that she wasn't choking on her fluids. She coughed and tried to escape his hands, but with tender insistence that she relax, the squirming ceased. When she realized who was with her, Wesker could only describe what he saw flash across her face as relief and happiness. Her hands lifted to touch him, and he let her bloody fingers brush across his cheeks.

"Please tell me that I'm not hallucinating," she said.

"I'm real," Wesker assured as his gloved hands wiped dirt from her face. Claire closed her eyes and Wesker pulled her into a sitting position and against his chest. She nuzzled into his jacket as he held her. The affection was welcomed, and the red strands of hair were as soft as he remembered them. He would have been satisfied to remain in their current position, but the situation did not permit it. His arms wrapped around her in support as he forced her to her feet. "Can you stand on your own?" he asked her.

"I think so," Claire said and tested her legs. "I'm not healing properly, but it feels like everything's patched up." Her body had recovered from the bullets, but it stilled ached and heaved with illness. "They injected me with something. I don't know what it was."

"Crimson," Wesker stated. "A type of anti-viral poison." He noted the sudden, embarrassed frown that came over Claire's face as he spoke, but it had nothing to do with his words. She smelled the vomit on herself and looked at Wesker's jacket with the mess that she had smeared on it.

"I'm sorry about that," she said.

"It can be cleaned," Wesker dismissed. "Where's your partner?"

"He didn't make it," Claire morosely stated. Wesker had suspected as much, but he said nothing as Claire mulled over whatever was troubling her. His head turned at the sound of approaching cars outside the building. Soon the front doors of the warehouse were thrown open and armed men poured inside to fan out and shout orders to one another.

"Leave us, dear heart," Wesker ordered, but Claire didn't move, and he read the hesitancy and worry in her posture. She didn't want to leave him. It was against her nature, and how very Redfield-like to be concerned about someone else when she was in a worse condition. "Claire," Wesker softly said. She looked at him with those open eyes and wordlessly begged him to come with her. She didn't want to lose him again, so soon.

"What if they inject you with the poison?" she asked. "No one's going to save you." Wesker remained expressionless as he handed her his car keys. What she said wasn't entirely true. If he were captured, she would come after him, futile as it might be. Wesker had the urge to stroke her face, but the enemy was getting closer.

"Your body is no condition to fight," he stated. "Go somewhere safe where I can find you."

"But your house is too remote for me to reach on my own, and everyone I know is either away or dead," Claire protested.

"This isn't a request, Claire. Do you honestly think that these men are a match for me?" She twiddled the keys." Go before you complicate what needs to be finished." She reached out and touched his gloved hand before turning and sprinting from the scene. Wesker knew that she hated leaving, but she also knew that she would make the situation worse if she stayed; for her current weakness would compromise his position. He watched her glance over her shoulder at him with regret. He nodded, and she kept moving.

Go somewhere far away until this is cleared up and you're better, dear heart. I'll come for you as soon as I can. When the assault team entered his territory, he was ready for them.