Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.
Get ready for the final chapters, as we bittersweetly wrap up, Shadow Of Me.
TanuSherry: *evil laughter*
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Nicole: Good to have you!
MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: *EVIL LAUGHTER INTENSIFIES*
Sundragon: Glad you got through! I hope everything turns around for you, life will get better, my friend :) I promise. I've been through the same thing. Take your time reviewing, I know you're still reading :)
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Chapter 54: Carry On, My Wayward Son
The whole world seemed to silence for this moment. No birds, no wind… not a mutter from the mouths of many. Cold and heavy eyes fell upon that man who was slain, fair skin absorbing the blood that once belonged to his veins. They watched as that women, mouthed sweet nothings into his unhearing ears. And they watched as his destroyer stood above him, orange hues burning with the kill.
"Poor Claire…" He whispered. "Who will save you now?"
Her grip on Wesker's shirt tightened and she pressed her forehead to his. Sadness and anger boiled under her skin, she was a fighter and she wasn't about to let him win. Chris, who had watched the entire thing transpire from the fight to the finish, looked down to Wesker's body. He had that feeling he would rise up again, like he always seemed to do. He just couldn't die and Chris had finally come to terms with that… but a little part of him wished he would just stay dead. All those years of nightmares because this one single man had planted a hellish seed in that poor town. Yet, he saw his sister, the complete and utter devastation on her face… it hit his heart like a train, his gut twisting in every which way. She was broken.
Alex circled Claire and his brothers lifeless form. "Who will protect you? Who will come to your rescue if not him?"
"He's coming back." Claire seethed from clenched teeth. "He always comes back."
"Your faith in him is strong but you would be wise to let that faith go." He knelt down beside her and stroked her hair gently, as if he was reassuring her.
Claire's eyes wandered down to Wesker's hand which was clenched around a syringe… it was meant for Alex, she was sure. If only she was strong enough to get close to him… she needed a distraction. She turned her head away from Alex and he smirked, standing up to face the many. Michael was down on his knees, bloody and beaten with Jill holding a knife to his throat.
"Do something!" Michael shouted.
Alex, who had little care for the man in the first place, smiled at Jill and it send shivers down her spine like Wesker once used to.
"Do as you like, Miss Valentine." He taunted. "He is no longer of use to me."
Michael's eyes were frantic, he tried not to move, for it would result in a bloody accident. Literally. Jill, who could not tear her sight away from Wesker, was trembling with adrenaline, she was ready to kill this man for the sake of many.
"Your fighter has fallen." Alex bellowed. "Served his day."
Chris closed his eyes, shaking his head. He was right… who was going to protect them from him? He was just the same as Wesker, clearly stronger for he had snuffed the older out. He could no longer feel malice for Albert Wesker, only pity. He died like a dog, useless and weak. Yet, that malice was transferred to Alex Wesker, who had taken something so dear to his sisters heart. Her children were now fatherless, she was now loveless. It was a cruel punishment to be given, to have that one person that you cared so much for, taken away.
"What's your master plan, Alex?" Chris shouted. "All of this has led up to something, hasn't it?"
Alex, who was smoothing out his bloody and dirt stained clothing, chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"You know what, Christopher. You're right, there is something." He looked down at the ground where he could see Claire, trembling in the wake of death. "I've been thinking quite hard on what to do after the death of Albert. You see, my original plan was to keep him alive, kill each and every one of you in front of him, for show of course. Clearly that went awry, Albert decided to throw a little fight in the mix." He wiped some blood away from his face with his handkerchief and then proceeded to stuff it back into place. "Now I'd very much like to humiliate him even in death!" He shouted with giddy force. "So I'm going to take Claire." He deadpanned.
Chris pointed his gun to the younger Wesker. "Don't even think about it." He growled. "If you want her, you're gonna have to fight me off and I ain't easy to kill."
"I'd rather not humiliate you, Christopher." Alex said smugly. "However, this," he reached down and wrenched Claire away from Wesker, holding her with her back against him, the knife that he used moments earlier to lay waste to his brother, held itself against her neck. Wesker's blood smeared across Claire's skin and she gripped Alex's wrists, trying to claw herself away from him. "Might spur that humiliation."
Chris tightened up. "Don't." He seethed. "Don't you dare."
"You are playing quite a risky game, my friend. Here I stand, knife to your sisters throat, Albert dead on the ground. What courage can you muster up now?"
"Plenty." Chris spat. "I have a whole team at my back and you've got no one to come save your ass before a put a cap in it."
"I find your humor startling for someone who's going to lose." Alex responded dryly.
Chris smirked and aimed his gun. "Redfield's don't lose."
Alex frowned, he was being serious. How dare he fight is fate? He pressed the knife harder against Claire's throat, eliciting a gasp from her. He relished in the feeling of her body tensing against his, feeling the pulse under the cold and bloody steel. He could smell her fear and wondered if his brother could smell it on her. She was a Redfield but that infamous luck was running short. Chris' gun was pointed right in between his eyes but a shot to the head would only incapacitate him, not kill him. He was not weak, in fact, he was significantly stronger than his other half. Clearly. Yet, Alex pondered on the outcome. There were so many to choose from. He could kill Claire and everyone else, but that victory would be short lived for he would go back to his standard life, goals accomplished. However, Wesker had put a damper on things, making his ultimate goal unhinge itself. He planned on saving them for him to watch.
"Well I'm having a hard time on deciding what I should do with all of you." Alex voiced. "I could easily kill you all but where is the fun in that? My intentions have been skewed, thanks to your wayward guardian here." His orange eyes flicked to Wesker's body. He could smell death on him and he could sense no life beating through him. However, the thought did tempt his doubt. He wasn't sure he would stay dead, it was impulse. Heat of the moment. He was so riled with adrenaline that the kill seemed opportune. Alex inwardly shrugged, he would just have to get a little bloody he supposed. Shoving Claire onto her knees, he tossed the knife aside and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them tightly.
"So here's the deal." Alex began. "You can either fight me and die trying…" He watched Chris bristle at the very thought. "Or you can give Claire up and no one has to die."
"She's not going anywhere with you." The small voice said with a trembling echo.
Alex glared, burning eyes finding the source. The boy. He held up a gun, hands bloody and shaking. His eyes were wide, body shot with adrenaline. He was certainly his fathers son.
XXXXX
Patrick squirmed under the man holding him down, a piece of broken glass lie just beyond his fingertips. The heavy man panted viciously, smiling wickedly at Kaya who watched from the corner, shaken to the bone with fear. Patrick writhed again, angering the man that held his wrists with one hand.
"Knock it off and this'll be a lot less painful for you." He spoke in a gruff, exasperated tone. He tried to work his belt with the other hand, taking his eyes off Patrick.
The boy's body began to tremble, he knew that his adrenaline was kicking in, just what he needed to save himself. He lashed out, his knee connecting with the mans groin, making him yelp and release his hands.
"You little bastard!" He shouted, red in the face.
Patrick's hand found the shard of glass and without thinking, he jammed the makeshift weapon into the side of the mans neck, opening a wound that could not be reversed. The glass jutted out, blood pooling out from the sides. He gurgled on his own fluids that were rising in his mouth, holding his jagged cut with one hand, trying so desperately to stop the bleeding. It was futile. Patrick's eyes were wide, his body still trembling as the man fell over, coughing up the last bit of air and blood he had. The boy turned his hands over, red all over. Red everywhere. His hands shook violently, this was what it was like to be alive. He could feel everything, every particle of the universe was before him simply from his body denying submission. He was pumped with the fight, ready to do anything for survival. Just like his mother taught him. He found a gun strapped to the mans belt and he dropped out the clip, just like he was shown.
"Three shots." Patrick muttered to himself.
Slapping it back into the gun, he pulled back the slide with a little hesitation. This was a weapon. This was a weapon that could end lives in a simple pull of the trigger. This was a weapon. Designed to maim. Designed to kill. And the worst part was… he knew how to use it. He was taught at a very young age. His mother and Chris were set on teaching him how to protect himself because the life that they had lived, they did not want to repeat. They wanted to show him how to protect himself and how to protect the people that he loved. And right now they were out there, fighting for their lives. Patrick scrambled over to Kaya who was still huddled in the corner, tears wetting her face. He put the gun down and grabbed her hands, squeezing them reassuringly.
"Kaya." He said sternly. "Kaya right now, we have to be really, really brave, ok?"
Her terrified blue eyes let loose a few more tears before she nodded. She stood up with her brother, calming herself down with deep breaths.
"It's time to be brave." Patrick repeated. "Just like mom said."
He picked up the gun and turned off the safety, griping it tightly in his hands. Everything was silent but he could hear a voice bellow against the silence. It was that man. His uncle. Patrick took a deep breath and held his sisters hand who was standing nervously behind him. Fear had to be replaced with courage. Leading them out of the house, he could still hear his voice, and how taunting it was. Stepping out onto the porch, he could see the ground that every man and woman stood, staring at Alex with harsh eyes. They were silenced by his voice, the proposition they were being offered.
"So here's the deal." He began. "You can either fight me and die trying… or you can give Claire up and no one has to die."
Patrick's hold on the pistol tightened as did his heart. With one final inhale, he stepped down, other hand clenched protectively around Kaya's.
"She's not going anywhere with you."
Alex eyed him for a moment and then barked with laughter. "You're brave, boy. I like that."
He stepped in front of Claire, as if he was deliberately giving Patrick the shot. "But didn't your father ever teach you that bravery gets you killed?"
He did not falter, only steady the gun in his hands. His eyes were wide but stern, blood covered his now calloused hands as one held to the weapon and the other to his sisters. His body no longer shook, it only radiated confidence that was masking his fear of this man.
Alex chuckled while shaking his head. "Because his bravery certainly got him killed." He nodded aside him to Wesker's limp body.
Patrick gasped silently, air caught in his lungs. There he was, dead. There was no mistaking it, he was lifeless, soaking in his own blood. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from his fathers body and back to Alex.
"You poor, wayward son, you." Alex chided mockingly. "Fatherless just as us. You are certainly a Wesker."
"But I'm not a coward." Patrick voiced.
Alex frowned. He was a little spitfire. He could see Albert in him. The way his eyes grew severe, those harsh, hazel eyes. They had long lost their innocence that he was sure was there at a time. His dirty blonde hair, pushed back from his face to reveal his flinty features and the blood that had dried itself onto his skin, seemed to symbolize his forthcoming. He was a man. Fighting in this world just like the rest of them. He was a protector, sealed to save his family. A survivor. The gun in his hand was his allegory of resurrection, a weapon that could kill.
"You will be." Alex said with an expressionless tone.
"Patrick!" Claire shouted. "Patrick you get out of here!" She choked on a sob before Alex could grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her back. Patrick took a step forward, aiming the gun directly to Alex. The expression on his face turned from stoic to anger in a mere second. He was certainly Albert Wesker's son. Able to change his emotion faster than a switch, being able to shift every emotion into a single action. Passion, anger, fear… every one of them boiled under the Wesker child and Alex could see it with his own two eyes. The way his body language suggestion that of the kill, that of the fight. He could be useful, he thought, able to be manipulated at such a young age. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all he knew but one thing was certain. He had the Wesker blood flowing through his veins.
"Let her go." He growled.
Alex smiled and laughed again, a wicked sound that emitted from those foul lips. "Or what?" He taunted, pulling on more of her hair.
"Or I'll shoot."
"Do you even know who you're dealing with?" Alex asked angrily.
"A lair." He began. "But most of all a cheater. I know you couldn't have beaten my dad without cheating."
"Your father was an old man and a fool."
Patrick's hazel eyes squinted ever so slightly, indicating failed deception on Alex's part. "But at least he wasn't a lair." His heart beat quicker and quicker, it was all leading up to this. That hairpin trigger that sat just beneath his finger, was ready to be pulled. And he pulled. The sound of a shot rang out louder than thunder, and his wrist jerked back painfully. As if the whole world had slowed for this single moment, Patrick watched as the bullet connected with Alex's cheek, leaving a bloody hole in its wake. His body crumbled to the ground like a stack of bricks, a trickle of blood escaping the wound.
He stood there, shaken to the core, chest heaving up and down. His eyes grew wide as recollection hit him harshly. He killed someone. He murdered someone today. Patrick Redfield shot down that man with this gun, trembling in his hand. And in the house, a man lie dead with a shard of glass in his neck. What had he become? A savage or a savior? A savage or a savior…
"Two shots." He mumbled.
Claire who had scrambled over to Wesker's body again, grabbed the syringe and forced it into Alex's neck. She hoped to whatever god was still out there that this would be it. A shot to the head and a shot to the neck. Her fear was disappearing, now replaced with hope.
Where was he? She asked herself. Why isn't he waking up? He has to wake up…
The brutal slice on his neck was still open wide, gaping and draining the last of the blood. No signs of life. None. But why? This wasn't supposed to happen. The tables had took a drastic turn for the worse and now her son was a killer just as his father. She had feared this very day. The day that her son was forced into a sadistic submission of extermination. She had watched, with her own two eyes, Patrick Redfield kill. This world had now filed down to nothing but survival, war, and murder. All the events leading up to this were inevitable, they were a force that could not be halted.
A breath of life would position everything back the way it was supposed to be. A breath of life would save all of their mortal souls.
A/N: It has been a very long time and I apologize greatly. I have been swamped with life. Work, school… the whole nine yards. It's taken me a lot of time to sit down and write but like I said and will continue to say, this story will continue, I promise! See you next time!
