A Star's Descent
By evolution-500
Cover by NaiveWriter (aka Multifreak99 on Deviantart)
Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.
Chapter Twenty: Revelations I
It took Rebecca and the others a while to recover from that little episode.
Following their escape, the survivors found themselves in a tight spot. With the basement out of the question, they were hard-pressed in terms of their options as far as exits were concerned. While Marini and Aiken argued over possible areas to explore, Rebecca helped Star recollect his things near the railing overlooking the portrait.
She gave a slight shiver as she locked up one bag and looked around.
"Is something wrong?" Star asked quietly.
"It's so quiet." she commented.
He nodded in agreement.
"I know." he said as he anxiously looked over the railing.
Aside from the slight chatter between her coworkers, the foyer was completely silent, which was rather strange given that no more than twenty minutes ago they had been actively pursued by a horde of creatures. Even stranger was the fact that all of the noises produced by the creatures had been completely muted by the disguised door, which thankfully gave no indication of giving way.
"I don't like the idea of being in this room," the albino confessed, "not when we have a mere door between us and those creatures."
"Yeah."
"I have to say, though, I'm rather surprised by its sturdiness. And the lack of noise...how aren't we able to hear those animals from out here?"
"The architect must have taken into account not only Umbrella's victims, but their screams as well," Rebecca unconsciously, and darkly, reflected.
The two sat for a moment, letting the words sink in.
Locking up the last suitcase, the albino straightened himself.
"Thank you for your help." he said politely.
Nodding, she then let her gaze trail over to Coen, who was currently wringing blood out from his shirt.
Pushing herself off from the floor, the medic headed toward him, slipping off her backpack.
Seeing her, the convict smirked.
"Ah, so you're back for another show, eh?" he replied in a cocky tone, showing off his muscled body, flexing his biceps and pecks in demonstration. "What do you think, romantic fantasies fulfilled?"
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
"Get over yourself." she answered. Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a bottle of water.
"Take this."
The convict reached out with one hand and graciously accepted.
"You know, this is the second time I had to wash blood off me," he said as he washed himself and his shirt. "I get the feeling that the Grim Reaper has it in for me tonight."
"Maybe he just likes the way you look in those pants," Rebecca joked.
"Hey, what can I say!" The convict shrugged smugly. "I'm a very handsome man."
She shook her head. Whatever he lacked, confidence was definitely NOT one of them. Rebecca then looked seriously at him.
"Billy."
Hearing his name, Coen stopped and looked up at her with curiosity.
"I just need to know. I need to know the truth. Did you really kill twenty-three people?"
Upon hearing that, all eyes turned in his direction, waiting for his reply.
"I'm not going to judge you, I just want to know the truth."
Coen scratched his chin and turned away from her. Leaning onto a nearby table, he stared off in the direction of the knight statues and exhaled.
"It was around this time last year," he began as he resumed washing. "Our unit was ordered to Africa, to intervene in some civil war. Our mission was to raid some guerrilla hideout located deep inside the jungle. But the hideout was far away from our entry point. Some died from the heat, others were killed by the enemy. In the end, only four of us survived."
His jaw tightened, "Only, there was no hideout."
Rebecca blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Coen's tone became thick and angry, his teeth bared like a dog's, "The idiots in charge had us operating on wrong information! But, we just couldn't go back empty-handed, oh no! Our leader ordered us to attack an innocent village!"
The medic waited for him to settle down. Once the quiet came, she found the courage to speak again, "...So did you execute those people?"
The convict shrugged.
"Forget about it. Doesn't matter anymore. That was then, this is now," he said lowly. "Besides, you said you wouldn't judge me."
"She said that she wouldn't, but that's not stopping me," Marini spoke up.
Looking over in his direction, Rebecca watched as the Bravo Captain stepped toward the convict, stopping just right in front of him. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny, Marini took out a cigarette, lit it, then shook his head, exhaling plumes of smoke like a dragon, "I don't think you did it."
Coen scoffed.
"And on what basis?"
"Cop's intuition and Marine logic. You had ample opportunity to escape, let alone kill us, but you never took the initiative. Plus you proved my point by saving Rebecca. Multiple times in fact."
Rebecca looked to Coen thoughtfully.
"The MPs in the van...they were killed by those dogs or leeches, weren't they?"
The convict shook his head.
"Doesn't matter now. The way I see it, I only have two choices left. Either I report to the Marines and serve out my sentence, or I can try running as long as I can."
"So why aren't you running?" Star asked.
Coen shrugged as he poured water into his shirt and wrung it.
"Ain't no point in runnin' if there's no exit."
The next few hours were spent rechecking rooms in the upper levels of the mansion. To say that their efforts bore no fruit would be putting it mildly.
They were hopelessly lost.
Most of their effort resulted in nothing more than wasted time as well as increased tiredness and irritability. The few occasions that did result in discovery, though, were usually moments that made them even more reluctant to continue. For instance, in one room the survivors discovered a large armory with all sorts of dismantled weaponry about. Feelings of relief had turned to frustration as they began to realize that the entire lot was useless due to various issues, be it age, missing and/or broken parts. Frustration had then turned to chills as the survivors made a second discovery in the same room opposite the armory – – a set of monitors on a desk with a still smoking cigarette-filled ashtray that displayed each location of the mansion on their screens, including the foyer entrance.
And that was merely the tip of the iceberg.
Following their hasty departure from the monitor room, the survivors had then found themselves looking into a strange maze-like room with steel gates blocking off areas. At first they had thought the room to be some sort of holding area for prisoners, but that theory proved false as a female announcer proclaimed over speakers the activation of the "battle arena". It was there that the group had been given a front row seat and taste of how Umbrella tested their creations. To say that the whole damn thing had been cruel and inhumane was putting it lightly.
When they returned to the foyer, the entrance was open. From the black wreckage and burns, Forest had been here. Overjoyed, the group hastily stepped outside. Joy turned to terror as they saw their latest obstacle.
"No..." Rebecca murmured.
Coen and Marini said nothing.
"Are you kidding me?" Aiken said. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"
Star stared despondently at the broken bridge ahead of them. Between them, a fifty foot gap plunged to a black bottomless chasm. At the other end seemed to be a road, presumably the exit out of here.
"FUCK!" Aiken yelled as he kicked a wall. "FUCK! FUUUUUUUCK!"
With their only exit lost, the group settled into a private bar that they found. Marini, Coen and Aiken sat close to the bar counter, while Star sat alone at a table. Letting out a tired sigh, Aiken looked over to his right, watching as Rebecca's lips tightened into a grim line as she read their latest finding.
"Put that thing away, Rebecca." he suggested.
Giving a curt nod, she shrugged off her backpack and placed the article inside, her features scrunched up, either in disgust or in an effort to suppress her tears.
"Monster," Aiken heard her whisper as she zipped her backpack up again.
He couldn't blame her.
The cherry topping for this fucked up sundae, the article in question was a diary belonging to Dr. Marcus himself. Found in a nearby desk, the first few pages had detailed how Marcus and Spencer – – as in Lord Oswald Spencer, the CEO of Umbrella – – had discovered a new kind of virus that they dubbed "Progenitor". Where or how they found this virus was not made clear, but the virus alone had inspired Spencer to start up the company as a means of continuing the author's research. While most of the pages talked about Marcus' eventual acceptance into the role of training facility director and his obsession with Progenitor, there were indications of a brewing power struggle. Apparently, Marcus was worried about Spencer's growing influence in the company and believed that it would only have detrimental effects on his research. As a result, he sought to strengthen his position as well, thereby leading to the development of a new virus called "t", or "tyrant", by using Progenitor as a base and combining it with leech DNA. Even worse, he expressed a willingness to use human guinea pigs, noting that only humans "are a proper mammalian subject for these experiments." Later pages indicated that Marcus was becoming increasingly paranoid and unstable, the former especially due to the suggestions of tampering with the devices guarding his lab. In fact, it got to the point where the only people he had trusted were "William", "Albert" and his leeches. The final entry, dated February 11th, no year given, indicated that Marcus would present "t" at the next directors meeting, where he would collect his rewards.
'I wonder if the bastard did,' Aiken wondered.
Old fucker must be filthy rich and living it up. Oh, how he would love to take a swing at the old goat! And he didn't even make mention of having a cure...
Reactions had varied from person to person. While Coen tightened his hand into a fist and expressed his distaste by punching the wall, Marini in contrast remained still, holding up a cigarette in thought. The one that had the most severe reaction was the albino, who was absolutely horrified by what he heard.
Getting up from his chair, Star made his way over to an old dusty piano that sat in the right hand corner, tapping several keys as he tested it.
Aiken watched as the youth shook his head.
"Does everything Umbrella touch turn to garbage?" he muttered.
Settling himself down, the albino started to play Claude Debussy's Claire de Lune, the slow and gentle tune adding to the melancholy of the room.
"So," Aiken spoke. "What do we do now?"
Marini sighed.
"I don't know, Richard." he admitted. "I just don't know."
Looking ahead to the bottles, he stared despondently.
"God I need a drink," Aiken muttered.
Marini patted him on the shoulder.
"After we get out of here, buddy," he replied. "As much as I'd love to say go for it, I can't. Not when we're on the job."
Aiken nodded.
"I know, I know." he said with a heavy sigh. "God, if there ever was a night to get piss-faced, though, this would be it."
"Agreed."
Meanwhile, Rebecca was seated nearby, quietly flipping through Star's manuscript. She glanced up as Marini, Coen and Aiken approached.
"What are you doing?" the former asked.
The medic shook her head.
"Just trying to make sense of this," she answered.
"What's this?" Coen asked, eying the manuscript.
Rebecca handed it to the trio.
"This was among Star's possessions," she explained. "According to him, someone had left this on his doorstep for some reason. He thinks its cultists."
She watched as the three men studied the various diagrams as they flipped through the pages.
"I thought I'd look through and see if I can make heads or tails of this stuff, but...I don't know what to make of it," she admitted.
None of the men responded.
"I also looked at his scars," she said, drawing up their attention.
"And?"
She sighed.
"It's my opinion that those injuries weren't self-inflicted."
"Hm." Came the response.
"Even more, he has a symbol branded into his back," Rebecca continued as she took out a pencil and drew it on a piece of napkin. "It looks like this."
Once she finished, she handed the crude diagram to Marini.
"Have you seen anything like it before, Captain?" Rebecca asked as he studied it.
Passing it to Aiken, he looked at her curiously.
"Why?"
"Well," she said slowly, "I just kind of assumed you would have experience with this sort of thing."
He shook his head.
"There has never been anything remotely like this," he answered. "Not when I joined S.T.A.R.S. anyway. I think Captain Wesker would probably be the better person to ask about this, though. He has a crystal clear memory."
Rebecca nodded.
"I'll check with him when we get back," she said, then looked back to the manuscript. "So...any thoughts about this?"
Aiken shook his head.
"It's creepy," he admitted.
"Touche," Coen said.
Marini studied the drawings.
"Do you think these could be Umbrella's monsters?" Rebecca asked.
The Bravo Captain shrugged.
"It's possible, especially considering some of these things have numbers after their names," he said. "Like, look at this - "Death Type-0011". That has to be some type of serial number or code name."
Rebecca looked up at him.
"About that," she said slowly. "Does that mean there's eleven versions or different models we have to worry about?"
Marini shook his head. "I don't know anymore than you do."
Coen stared at the pages with a frown.
"Why are they all named after tarot cards?" he wondered.
Rebecca blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"The names." Coen pointed. "Look - Death, Strength, Judgement, Fool, Temperance, the Magician - they're all part of the Major Arcana tarot."
"How the fuck do you know that?" Aiken asked.
Coen shrugged.
"I had an ex-girlfriend whose mom was into fortune telling and really, REALLY hated my guts," he replied. "Kept drawing the Death card on me."
Aiken scoffed.
"Assuming these creatures are real and are based on tarot cards," Rebecca began, "how many characters are we talking?"
She watched as the convict leaned back in thought.
"God it's been a while," he muttered. "Umm...I think there's twenty...twenty-one? No, twenty-two! I think it's twenty-two."
Rebecca blanched. Twenty-two creatures? And that's not even thinking about the other versions of said-creatures.
He scrunched his eyes as he tried recalling their names.
"Let's see, there's Death, Strength, Judgement, Fool, Temperance, the Magician, the Hangedman,...the Tower, the Lovers, the Emperor, the Empress, the Chariot, the Wheel of Fate..."
The convict sighed.
"I can't remember the others," he said.
Rebecca tilted her head in thought.
"What are you thinking, Rebecca?" Marini asked.
"Captain," she said quietly, "do you think it's possible Umbrella may have purposefully lured Star out here in order to...capture and experiment on him with this t-virus, perhaps thinking his condition could be used for their research? Perhaps to make him part of this tarot card project they're planning?"
She watched as the Bravo Captain digested this information.
"Possible, but doubtful." he replied. "Besides, how could they possibly have known about him? Especially if he was living in the middle of some armpit town in Louisiana? Why did they wait until now rather than take him some time earlier?"
"Plus," Aiken chimed in, "where does that weird lightning fit in?"
Rebecca lowered her head. She had completely forgotten about that.
"Good point," she said.
"Put this somewhere safe just in case, though," Marini said as he handed the manuscript back to her. "This could be proof of Umbrella's misconduct."
The medic nodded in agreement as she carefully put it back into her bag. The albino finished playing, then drew his hands away from the keyboard and leaned back, stretching his arms.
"That was nice," Rebecca said.
"Thank you." he answered. Glancing over to the others, he tilted his head curiously. "Do any of you play the piano?"
"Nope," Marini answered.
"I'm shit." Aiken answered honestly.
Rebecca shrugged.
"I used to with my mom and grandmother," the medic answered.
"Really?" Star said interestedly, standing up from the bench. "Could you play something?"
"Why?"
He shrugged.
"Catharsis, I suppose? Mother said that sometimes music can help rejuvenate the spirit."
"You're not going to have us sing, are you?"
"Not if any of you don't want to," Star said innocently.
"I haven't done it in a long time."
"Please?"
She sighed.
"Okay," the medic relented.
Aiken watched as she went over to the piano and sat on the bench while Star moved aside. After a few minutes of trying to familiarize herself with the keyboard.
"'Lament by James Marcus'," she read aloud, then hummed the notes and stopped with a puzzled expression. "This tune is anything but that."
Star shrugged.
Aiken watched as she then started to play.
…At least, that's what she was trying to do. The first few notes were okay, but the more Rebecca progressed, the more offkey she became. Glancing to her, the albino raised a brow.
"It's been a while," Rebecca said sheepishly.
"Take your time."
She tried again. Only this time, she was worse than before. Giving up, she huffed, then slammed on the d keys.
"That was amazing," Coen deadpanned.
"Oh bite me!" Rebecca retorted.
"Well, on the plus side, this was a piece written by Marcus himself," Star said. "Even if we're unable to get our hands on him, at least we cold-bloodedly murdered him through his music."
Aiken laughed in surprise. He had to admit, that had caught him off-guard.
He watched as Rebecca glared at the albino, causing him to shrink.
"Sorry," Star said as he cleared his throat.
She shrugged.
"Well, I did warn you," Rebecca replied.
"Given the bad taste this Marcus character leaves in the mouth, might I suggest a different song, perhaps?" Star suggested.
"I'm not doing another. I'll only ruin it."
"Just one last try?"
The medic sighed.
"Alright, but just one more." she said.
"Yay, another maestro gets to die again!" Coen cheered sarcastically.
Rebecca glared at the convict. If looks could kill, hers would have vaporized him.
"Don't make me come over there and hit you!" she retorted.
"Ooh!" Coen chuckled.
Rolling her eyes, Rebecca turned the pages, scanning the titles.
"Oh! I love this one!" she said as she pointed to a particular one.
"'Don Juan Triumphant' by Erik Destler?" Star read.
"I used to sing and play this when I was little with my mom and grandmother," Rebecca replied.
"I never heard of him. Who was he?"
"He was a French maestro from the late 1800s. Only this aria remains." she explained.
Aiken watched as she read the sheet music and tested the keys.
"I-I just need a moment to practice," she said nervously.
Star nodded.
"Go ahead." he said patiently. "No rush."
Aiken watched as the medic released a small breath as she turned her attention to the song, counting the bars, then reached to the keys, testing certain notes. After a few minutes, she exhaled, then started to play the first eight notes, ignoring everything around her. After the eighth note, she sang.
"Your eyes see but my shadow,
My heart is overflowing.
There's so much you could come to love,
You're content not knowing.
Tenderly,
You could see,
My soul."
As the song ended, Marini nodded and clapped along with Aiken and Coen, causing her to look down. Star, on the other hand, was quiet.
"I wasn't good, I know," Rebecca said embarrassedly.
"On the contrary, you were," the albino said. "I was just struck by how sad it was."
Aiken watched as she cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.
"Your turn." the medic said as she quickly got up from the bench.
Taking his seat, the albino regarded her for a moment.
"I'm sorry for embarrassing you like that, Officer Chambers." he said.
She waved it off. Aiken watched as the albino turned back to the piano and started to flip through the pages.
"I think we're all in need of something uplifting," he answered before stopping on a particular page. "Ah! Johan Brahms' 'Hungarian Dance No. 5'. Very nice."
Putting his fingers to the keys, the albino narrowed his eyes in concentration.
"Everyone quiet down, Mozart is going to play!"
Rebecca watched as Star gave Aiken an annoyed glance before looking back to the sheet music. Exhaling, the albino then started to play quickly in A minor, his eyes closed. Watching him in this state, the medic noticed how much more relaxed and more comfortable he seemed; the albino was lost in his own world, displaying far more liveliness, playfulness and personality through his whole person than he ever had, his hands especially. The way his hands danced and swept around the keyboard almost reminded her of a Disney animation that had featured Mickey Mouse, much to her amusement. Even more, he was actually smiling, something Rebecca thought him incapable of! His teeth were far too long and far too sharp, once again making her think about Aiken's words from the train, about something being wrong with him, but by the same token, the way his whole face seemed to light up with joy as he played made him look like a whole other person. He looked younger, handsomer. He looked happy and like he was having a lot of fun, enjoying himself, especially when he playfully did the mid-section of the song. Once he finished, she and the others clapped, the sound startling the albino, causing him to drop the smile and look away in embarrassment.
"That was lovely!" Rebecca said.
"Um, thank you," Star said awkwardly.
"Where did you learn to play like that?"
"From the circus and my mother."
Aiken shook his head.
"You really are a jack of all trades." he said.
"That's why I was called "Jack"," the albino replied.
"So, what else did you pick up while in the circus?" Rebecca asked.
He shrugged.
"Oh, just a few extra tricks."
"Such as?"
There came a low, loud fart from the bar counter, causing everyone to freeze.
"Aw for fuck's sake!" Coen said in disgust.
"Ewww!" Rebecca said as she plugged her nose and moved away from Aiken.
"Richard, what the hell?" Marini groaned.
"It wasn't me!" Aiken insisted.
There came another loud fart, this one wet-sounding, causing Coen's eyes to widen.
"Jesus!" Marini swore as he waved the air with his hand.
"That wasn't me!" the convict responded. "I swear I didn't do that!"
"Like hell it wasn't!" Aiken retorted.
"This is so gross!" Rebecca said as she hid her nose in her shirt.
Meanwhile, the albino had his head lowered, trembling.
"I can't believe you just farted all over me!" Aiken groaned.
"You farted on me first!" Coen retorted.
"So you admit it! You did fart on me!"
"No I didn't!"
"Neither of you had," Star said in a matter of fact tone, drawing everyone's attention.
"What do you mean?" Aiken asked.
"Depending on the acoustics of a room, it's amazing what can be pulled off with a little ventriloquism."
The group absorbed his words.
"No way," Rebecca said.
Glancing from the corner of his eyes at them while staring ahead at the sheet music, although the albino kept a straight face, his eyes twinkled with wicked mischief and amusement.
"It's true," he said.
"I can throw my voice over here like this."
Coen whipped around to his left with a start.
"Or here."
Marini twisted his shoulder to the right, startled by the closeness of the voice in his ear.
"Or here."
"SHIT!" Aiken yelled as he heard the voice directly right behind him.
"Or even here."
Rebecca's eyes widened like saucers, her whole frame seizing up. Looking incredulously to the albino, the group regarded the enigmatic figure.
"You cheeky shit!" Rebecca exclaimed.
To the group's surprise, Rebecca's especially, Star tossed his head back and laughed, a rich and melodiously boyish sound that rang in the bar. Turning around to face them, he bowed his head respectfully.
"My apologies, I was just having some fun at your expense," he said with a small smile. "It won't happen again, I assure you."
As the albino looked back to the piano, Aiken shook his head.
"Jesus, that's creepy!" he said. "That was so...fucking...creepy."
"It is," Marini said, "but I think it could be potentially useful."
Rebecca glanced at the leader in curiosity.
"What are you thinking, Captain?" she asked.
"If we could possibly lure enemies away in a different direction by making them think we're someplace else, we wouldn't have to worry about confrontations as much."
Coen nodded.
"We'd be able to conserve ammunition easier, for sure." he added. "Do you think you can do that, Red?"
The albino shrugged.
"Provided the conditions are adequate enough to allow for it and my voice doesn't give out." he replied.
Marini stood up from the bar stool.
"Okay, everyone. Break's over. Let's find a way out of this dump."
Aiken frowned upon seeing the bridge.
"We've already checked the church, there's nothing." he complained.
"Then let's check to be sure," Marini growled back.
They were about halfway across when they noticed something; despite there still being a glistening pool of blood, the gill man's body was gone.
"What the hell?" Aiken swore confusedly.
The survivors nervously glanced around, even looking over the railings, mystified.
Where could it have gone?
There was no indication of a blood trail, footprints or anything of the sort. The body itself had just disappeared without a trace!
Flurries of questions erupted from each person.
"Is it still alive?"
"How?! It was stabbed in the heart!"
"Then where did the body go?"
"I don't know!"
"Did something take it or chase it away?"
"Maybe it's hiding around somewhere, waiting to ambush us!"
"Everyone calm down!" Marini bellowed. Once the survivors quieted down, the Bravo Captain resumed, "We're gonna take it slow and search the area. Stay in sight."
The group departed and began their search. Aiken was going to check the guard tower when he heard Rebecca call out from the right side of the church, around the corner.
"Over here!"
Charging to her position, Aiken found her standing by an elevator that was built into the side of the church. Behind her was a fancy black iron fence with a gate that sealed off the backyard.
"How the hell did we miss this?" Aiken muttered.
Marini shook his head.
"Gotta love the effects of sleep deprivation," he murmured. "Let's check the back to see if there's some sort of generator to get it started."
"We can't, the damn thing's locked." Aiken replied.
Rebecca stepped toward it.
"I'll climb it," she volunteered.
Grabbing part of the fence, she pulled herself off the ground and received an extra boost upward thanks to Coen and the albino. Once she got over the high bar with some difficulty, she leaped down to the other side, stumbling before regaining her balance.
Walking back to the gate, she unlocked it from the other side.
"Good girl," Marini praised.
Following her to the backyard, the survivors marched forward, but stopped when they found themselves staring into the lake.
Aiken tightened his grip on the shotgun.
"So...we're on...an island?" the albino murmured.
"An island cut off from the forest, no less," Coen replied.
Turning around, Marini scanned the area, then walked toward an old circuit breaker hanging from the back wall of the church. Flipping the switch, there came an audible hum and a light flickered above the elevator door.
"Don't worry, we're getting out of here." he wearily assured.
Candlelight flickered as the elevator doors opened, revealing a tight stone corridor with fluted ionic columns lining the sides. At the end of the corridor was a small balcony above that overlooked the area. On the survivors' level were two doorways. One was rendered completely useless, while the second remained intact. Entering the latter, the survivors found themselves in another library filled with intricately designed floor tiles, old portraits and expensive-looking shelves and bookcases.
Rebecca shook her head.
The ostentation of these people!
Moving toward one of the small night stands, she picked up a torn piece of a paper and curiously read it over.
"What is it?" Marini asked.
"One of Marcus' notes," Rebecca said before reading it aloud. "'Trouble is unlikely, but I closed my babies up in a special capsule. But it won't be safe if I hold onto it myself. I'll hide it into that place. 'To hide a leaf, put it in a forest'...To open the capsule, the special stripping agent is necessary. No way Spencer's lackeys could figure out how to make it.'"
Star blinked.
"His 'babies'?" he muttered.
"Probably his leeches," Coen growled contemptuously.
Pocketing the note, the survivors continued searching the room, then stopped upon seeing a large hole inflicted into the ceiling.
Rebecca watched as Marini unslung a large harpoon-like weapon from off his shoulder.
Taking aim, he fired it upward, the hook snagging onto a ceiling beam.
After tugging several times to make sure it was secure, he looked back to the others.
"Okay, it looks good. Any volunteers?"
"I'll do it." Rebecca said as she stepped forward.
Taking the line from him, the medic strained the muscles in her arms as she pulled herself up. Hefting a leg over, she rolled indelicately onto her back, then pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.
"Okay, I'm up."
Marini nodded.
"Alright. Mr. Wolf, would you be so kind as to give me a boost?"
Lowering himself down to one knee, the albino patiently waited as the Bravo Captain used him as a stool. Grabbing Marini's waist, he helped boost the Bravo up, then pushed on the soles of his feet to propel him upward as Rebecca tried to help.
Once Marini was up, he was followed by Coen, then Aiken, leaving Star at the bottom.
"Your turn, big un'," Aiken called.
"Okay, just catch my bags," the albino called back.
"Fuck the bags, get your lily ass up here!"
The Bravo reared his head back as one suitcase flew just past his ear, hitting a beam and slamming down in an unoccupied space right beside him.
"Shit, you nearly hit me!" Aiken snapped as he dodged another bag.
"My apologies."
Grabbing the line, the albino hopped up, but then crashed down onto the floor with a clatter as the line snapped.
"Star!" Rebecca cried out.
Letting out a groan, the albino pushed himself up into a seated position.
"Are you okay down there?"
"I'm fine. Just a little sore," the albino waved.
"You shouldn't have placed all your weight on the line, chunky," Aiken remarked.
Looking up with a huff, the albino glared at the Bravo.
"For your information, I'm a hundred and eighty-two," he hissed.
"Just grab some of the tables and chairs, we'll try to pull you up." Marini said.
After he picked himself up and dusted himself off, the albino obediently gathered up some of the furniture and started piling them up. Once he was satisfied with the makeshift ladder's stability, he began his climb.
Shakily standing on a dresser, he slowly straightened himself with his hand high over his head.
"I can't reach." Star strained.
"Jump up, we'll try to catch you."
The albino stared incredulously up at Marini.
"What?"
"Just jump!"
He shook his head.
"I can't."
"Wolf, stop fucking around and jump already." the Bravo Captain said impatiently.
"I can't, if I try it will all tip over."
Rebecca leaned over the edge.
"Star."
The albino nervously glanced up from the furniture that he stood on.
The medic stretched her arm out.
"Take my hand."
The wood creaked beneath him, causing him to wave his arms in circles as he tried to regain his balance. Once he stopped moving, he froze, then cautiously looked up.
The rest of the survivors reached out to him.
"It's going to be okay, Star," Rebecca assured. "It's going to be okay, just take our hands."
Swallowing, he slowly reached up, all the while trying to maintain his balance.
"That's it, keep looking up. Keep your attention up here." The medic said soothingly.
He kept reaching upward, his fingers four inches further from theirs.
Rebecca strained as much of her arm as possible.
Just when it seemed as if the tips of the survivors' fingers would brush against his gloved digits, the albino lowered his vision and froze.
"Star?"
He stared at something ahead of him.
"What's wrong?"
"I saw movement," he said in a quiet and shaky voice. "Get me out of here."
"Just give us your hand."
His attention remained on whatever it was he saw. He kept still, then gave a startled yell, hurting Rebecca's ears. When he looked back up at them, Rebecca saw his eyes were wild with terror.
"AAH! LET ME UP! LET ME UP! THERE'S SOMETHING DOWN HERE!"
"Where?!" Coen called.
"I don't see a damn thing!" Aiken said with frustration.
"IT'S COMING TOWARD ME!"
"GIVE US YOUR HAND!" Marini shouted.
Whatever it was that the albino saw was now driving him into a frenzy, causing him to frantically flail his hands about and wobble on the furniture, trying desperately to reach their hands. Whenever he peaked back to the source of his terror, it made the albino even more worked up. His scarred eyes and face stained with tears, Star wildly grabbed at the air.
"HELP ME! HELP ME PLEASE!"
He continued to wobble around, threatening to fall over again. After several failed attempts, the survivors managed to grab hold.
"GOTCHA!" Marini shouted. "Let's get him up as fast as we can!"
They strained every muscle in their bodies as they hoisted the albino up to their level as the furniture collapsed beneath him.
Grabbing his upper arms, they pulled until the youth rolled over onto his back, sprawling across the floor. Once she was certain that Star was safe from harm's way, Rebecca and her fellow survivors drew their firearms then turned back to the gap, ready to strike whatever had so terrified the albino. Nothing.
Lowering her weapon, Rebecca turned back to Star, who sat huddled near a desk, shuddering. Moving toward him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's alright, it's okay. You're safe now."
Taking several deep breaths, the albino stared back at the black gaping abyss.
"What did you see?" Rebecca pressed.
Turning away from her, he pushed himself off from the floor and brushed the dirt from his clothes.
"It must have been my imagination," he said quietly. "My apologies."
Rebecca watched as he picked up his backs, then glanced back to the hole. What could have scared him so much?
Birkin glanced around nervously. Even though he was armed with a three-fifty-seven revolver, he felt incredibly vulnerable as he navigated the various corridors and catwalks.
If only Albert were here to keep him company...
Walking past a set of transformers, he was just about to pass through an archway when he felt the ground around him shake for a moment. He heard a loud, low whale-like moan followed by heavy muffled wheezing and a grating noise, the sounds approaching closer with each heavy tremulous step. Ducking behind a wall, he watched aghast as it appeared in the distance, a good forty feet ahead of him. Ten feet tall, the creature was humanoid, a bizarre mishmash of Medieval armor and cybernetic augmentation. Greyish green in color and heavily armored, its head was a dome-like helmet with a red lensed gas mask concealing its face, its mechanical limbs wrapped in belts and buckles. Dragging behind it was a long poleaxe. A bardiche.
"Look at you!" he whispered in wonder.
What type of Tyrant model was this? If only he could get a closer look...
"Hello, William."
Birkin whipped around, startled as James Marcus appeared.
"You look frightened. Is that anyway to treat your own teacher?" the latter said, his form rippling.
Birkin raised his revolver.
"Don't come any closer, Marcus!" he said.
"You betrayed me, William, and now I will have my revenge!" Marcus roared as leeches swarmed around him. "My children and I will rise together to the surface and Umbrella will burn!"
"Your vengeance will have to wait, Doctor." an unfamiliar voice called.
Marcus glanced around, startled.
'What?!"
The next thing Birkin knew, the juggernaut charged and tackled Marcus, the creature slamming its fists down onto his smaller figure while the leeches themselves were zapped with violent arcs of electricity. Marcus let out a prolonged scream as a current ran through his body, then stopped as he lost consciousness, his figure smoking. Once it was all over, the armored creature turned in Birkin's direction, stepping threateningly toward him.
"Stand down, Chariot Type 27," a deep British voice commanded.
The creature stopped, then fell away as a man approached. Dressed entirely in white, with an old-style olive-colored cravat tied around his neck, the man was six feet tall and weighed, by Birkin's estimates, a hundred and eighty or so pounds. Dashingly handsome, with high cheekbones and forehead, a straight nose and a goatee, his hair was a thick black mane, while his eyes were hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses. In one hand he held a long white cane or walking stick with a gold handle. Taken together, the man looked like a throwback to Victorian times, a figure that held himself with lordly authority.
"Dr. Birkin, I presume?" he said, his voice deep and gravelly, reminding Birkin of a low growl.
"Y-Yes. Yes, that's right," Birkin said with relief. "Thank you for saving me!"
The man said nothing.
Birkin cleared his throat.
"That's-that's a...a beautiful B.O.W. you have there!" he said. "I've never seen anything like it! Is it a Tyrant?"
"No."
"Oh," Birkin said dumbly. "Well, I appreciate your help. I bet management sent you to clean up the mess."
"We are not Umbrella."
Birkin blinked.
"You're not?" he said. He then regarded the man in white and his monstrous companion suspiciously. "Who are you?"
The man stepped forward, his arms folded behind his back.
"My name," he said slowly, "is Curien. Dr. Roy Curien."
Birkin's fingers curled nervously around the revolver.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"To be truthful, William," Curien said as he slowly approached, "it's about your future."
The scientist scoffed.
"My future?" he repeated. "What, are you trying to recruit me for whatever organization you're from?"
"I am not part of any organization or company," Curien replied.
"Ahh, so you're a solo practitioner," Birkin surmised. "And what exactly do you want with me?"
The man in white regarded him.
"You may find this hard to believe, William," Curien said, "but there was a time when we had been friends."
Birkin blinked.
"Friends? What are you talking about?" he said in puzzlement. He hadn't met this man before.
Had he?
Birkin tried thinking back to the various places where he could have met this fellow, but he kept drawing a blank.
Curien cleared his throat.
"There have been variances, but we were friends, once upon a time. In one life, you were my student, and I held you in the highest possible regard," he said as he took off his sunglasses and wiped them with a cloth, revealing heterochromatic eyes, one blue, the other red. "In another, we were colleagues. I had introduced you to your lovely wife and together you both made me godfather to your child. Well, tried to, anyway..."
Birkin stared incredulously at the strange figure. The man was completely mad! Absolute batshit insane!
"And...let me guess. In another life, we were lovers, right?" Birkin said mockingly.
Curien scoffed.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "You and Albert at one point were, though, after a rather heavy night of drinking."
Birkin was still for a moment, then let out a raucous laugh.
"This is some sort of joke, right?" he asked in between chuckles. "Who-"
He paused, his eyes widening in realization.
"Ohhh, of course! Now it all makes sense!" he said with a smile. "Al put you up to this, didn't he?"
He then looked around.
"Okay, Al! HA HA! Very funny!" he called. "JOKE'S OVER, YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!"
"I assure you, William, that what I'm saying is no joke," Curien replied. "I know everything about you."
Turning to face the strange man, Birkin raised a brow.
"Do you?"
"Yes. You were a child prodigy, recruited by Umbrella in 1977 at age fifteen, the youngest researcher to have been hired by the company at the time, and you were exceptionally proud of that. At least, until Alexia Ashford beat your record...and only at eleven years old."
Birkin bristled at the name.
"I know all about the horrible things that you've done. James Marcus' murder, the experiments on those children from Raccoon City Orphanage, the Trevor family. Lisa."
Curien studied him for a long time.
"Yes, William," he said with a nod. "I know all about the things you've done to her. It was from her that you made your...discovery."
Birkin's face flushed.
"So you know," he said simply.
Curien nodded.
"Yes," he replied. "I know all about the Golgotha virus."
Birkin raised the revolver, pointing it directly at him.
"You're here to take my work."
The man disinterestedly regarded his weapon.
"My dear fellow," he said, "put that down."
"G IS MY CREATION!" Birkin yelled. "You think you can just walk in here and take it from me?! You're nothing but a parasite! A dirty, stinking maggot!"
"And you are a deluded fool," Curien replied evenly.
Birkin cocked back the hammer.
"You're not getting it."
Curien sighed.
"Oh William," he said.
He raised up two fingers. At that moment, the revolver just suddenly...deconstructed itself, the barrel and cylinder sliding off and floating in the air along with the bullets, causing Birkin to let out a startled shriek as he recoiled with fright, staring wide-eyed as all the various parts were stripped, putting a palm over his mouth as if afraid he was going to vomit. Once it was finished, the pieces came floating back into Birkin's hand. The scientist paled.
"It's-that's-...that's impossible...it's not real," he trembled. "You're not real."
He stumbled backwards drunkenly until he hit the wall, staring at the pieces in his hand.
"Marcus must have infected me!" Birkin rambled as he slid down to the floor, his face covered in sweat. "He came at me, I shot him, and the spray must have gotten into my system. Or...or maybe he struck me in the head, and now I'm hallucinating! I'm dreaming!"
He flinched as he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and shook him.
"Get ahold of yourself, man!" Curien said. "You haven't been infected, nor are you hallucinating. Believe me, I am very real."
Birkin looked into the man's herochromatic eyes, staring up at him.
"Who are you?" he said softly. "What are you?"
Curien didn't answer.
"Why have you come here?" Birkin asked.
The man sighed.
"To warn you," he said. "You are an ambitious man, William, and I always admired you for that. I know that you want to be accepted into the Board of Directors and have control over the company. The Board is going to turn you down."
Birkin shook his head.
"No," he said. "You're lying. You're lying!"
"I'm afraid not, William. They are going to see this night as evidence of your incompetence. Colonel Sergei Vladimir will pin the blame on you and your friend for what happened here."
Birkin's mouth tried to work.
"But never mind that. Failed dreams isn't what you should be concerned with, nor delusions of grandeur or glory. Tonight is a stepping stone, William, one that will pave the way to not only your destruction, but also that of your family's."
The scientist looked at him with a start.
"My family's! What do you mean?!" he demanded.
"I know what you are planning, William," Curien said. "In early September, you will try to sabotage Umbrella facilities and release the t-virus into the city in order to delay Umbrella Special Forces soldiers as you and Annette attempt to make a deal with the U.S. military. In exchange for the G virus, you expect them to offer asylum for you and your family."
The man paused, then gave a saddened look.
"It isn't going to work. It varies in different timelines, but of the many universes that I have visited that are similar to your own, your fate is consistent. Umbrella has moles within the military, and it's through them they discover your plans. They will send soldiers to retrieve your work and will gun you down, be it intentionally or unintentionally. With your last breath, you will attempt to revive yourself using G. Should you do so, your family will be destroyed. You will murder your wife and impregnate your daughter with the G embryo. Raccoon City will be destroyed, and in turn, your name will go down in history as the man who introduced bioterrorism to the world."
Birkin stared at the man in horror, too powerless to turn away, let alone shut his ears. Part of him couldn't believe that he was listening to this crank. Another part, however, felt compelled to listen; the way Curien spoke had a terrible sense of prescience, as if somehow the man had witnessed the events firsthand.
'Am I dreaming?' he wondered.
Birkin had always been a man of science; not once had he ever believed in religion. He believed in hard tangible facts. He had no patience for the supernatural or paranormal - to him, people that entertain such fanciful notions are just braindead plebs or gullible imbeciles, wasting time and money trying to find something that doesn't exist.
...And yet, here it was.
The whole room was spinning around him, making the researcher dizzy.
"This...this is too much." he said as put both hands on his face and massaged his forehead.
Curien gave him a comforting pat.
"It is a lot to take in." he said.
Birkin lowered his hands.
"What is it that you want? What do you gain from this?"
The man in white sighed.
"We are both damned men, William," Curien said. "I have suffered in ways you can't possibly imagine. I made decisions that cost me everything, and then some. And...and some more. So...so so much more. You are a bastard and a shit, William...but, with that said, I'm offering you a chance at redemption. Of salvation. Not for your sake, but for your family's. For Annette's. For Sherry's. Even if you are a loathsome human being...I can't let them suffer for it."
"Can I avert this?" Birkin asked.
Curien nodded.
"I believe it's possible," he said. "Normally I don't interfere with a given timeline,...but after seeing travesties like this played over and over and over again...I can't sit back and allow this to happen anymore. I will do everything I can to help you and your family, William, but in return you must follow my instructions to the letter. You must destroy the G virus."
"Destroy it?!" Birkin gawked. "Are you insane?!"
"It is the only way to save your family."
"IT'S MY LIFE'S WORK! WITHOUT IT I'M NOTHING!"
"So is letting your family get destroyed, especially over something so practically useless! G is an unstable mess, William! A failure! Can't you see that?! Just because you are an egotistical ass doesn't mean they should be pulled down into the abyss with you!"
Birkin looked away.
Curien studied him.
"Tell me, William, is your work more sacred than your family?" he asked.
"It's all I have!" Birkin said quietly.
The man in white shook his head disgustedly.
"You are a fool and a cliché," he remarked. "I will give you three days time. If you have destroyed it, meet me at Raccoon City Park at six o'clock in the evening - there we will go over further details on how to proceed. If you refuse to do so, don't even bother showing up."
He turned around.
"And don't even try to double-cross me or think of pulling a fast one, William - I will know."
Birkin scoffed.
"Your arrogance is something else, Roy. What makes you think Umbrella is going to just sit idly by?! You and I are being recorded as we speak."
"Umbrella knows nothing. The few things they know already, or think they know, that's because I allowed for it." Curien said. "I have total control over everything. Every camera, every speaker. Even the listening device your friend "Al" attached to the back of your collar when you weren't looking."
Upon hearing that, Birkin reached up and felt around before feeling something round. Pulling it off, he stared with incredulity at the miniature microphone, then looked back to Curien.
"Fear not, William. As far as Umbrella and your friend Albert is concerned, our meeting and this conversation has never happened. You have nothing to worry about." He paused, then spoke in a softer tone, "One last thing, - - should you choose to ignore what I say completely and continue on this path, I implore you not to use the G virus when the time comes. As a fellow scientist and parent,...please...die clean. Don't let Annette and Sherry suffer for your arrogance."
Birkin stared, startled by the request.
"Does...Does Sherry live?"
"She does," Curien replied. "At least, in some of the scenarios I witnessed. There have been some where...she...doesn't. In those where she does survive, however, Sherry will have to live with the consequences of your actions and will have to pay for your crimes. In some of those scenarios, Sherry finds the strength and love that you wouldn't afford her to become a much better person. In other variations,...she's not so fortunate, and ends up suffering."
He looked over his shoulder. At that moment, Birkin saw his eyes shimmer with electricity.
"Get some rest, William, you look tired." Putting the sunglasses back on, Curien turned to face the massive creature and gestured to the unconscious body of Marcus. "Take him. We're leaving."
Obeying, the golem hefted it up over his massive pauldron-clad shoulders, following his master down a catwalk into darkness.