Italics: Thoughts
Chapter IX: Remembering
"Why?"
She looked at Sherry.
"Why...?"
"Why didn't you tell us that you...knew him...?"
She hesitated.
Entrusting Sherry was something she had always done since assuming command of the resistance. But she couldn't tell her the entire truth—that the Immortal killed Chris. It would have been seen as a betrayal and for the sake of the survivors they protected, it was better for them to not know. Everyone in the camp revered Chris as a savior; the champion that hold one day lead them to overthrow their vampiric overlords.
She paused, wondering if she should continue, but soon relinquished the thought. "I…didn't say anything because I wasn't sure how everyone would react. And…I said his face looked familiar. I'm not exactly sure from where."
"Claire, this isn't something to hide from us. You could have been killed in that room. How do you know him...?"
She heaved a sigh. "...I might have met him at the bar I was running years ago. I think…his name was…Leon…Leon Scott Kennedy. He was an officer in the Washington Police Department."
"An officer? Do you think the consortium experimented on him?" Sherry asked.
"Thats...the only explanation." Again, she paused. "When I was in the supply room...it was like he was fighting with himself…like he was under some kind of control. Conrad is right. He could have killed any of us…but he didn't. Why...?"
"...I don't know. It was still a huge risk being in there. We also can't be sure what his intentions are. He's still a danger to the camp. If word gets out about us harboring a psychopathic Immortal, it's over. We won't be able to contain the survivors down here."
"I know, but I had to know. He…he just looked too familiar to me. I knew the dangers, but I had to know."
"It doesn't seem like he's just some Immortal." Sherry said. They were in the communications room, the door closed from anyone overhearing their conversation. "There's been talks of Immortal commanders controlling regions around the world. He…could be one of them, based on the way he's dressed. Conrad made a huge mistake bringing him down here but…he could be the key for a cure."
"A cure…? What cure…?" She found herself asking.
"This is a virus…that much we know." Sherry continued with her explanation. "There's a possible way to develop an antivirus to either return the host to normal or kill them. The problem is obtaining the blood from an infected host."
It wasn't the first time Sherry mentioning Immortals being in control of the armies hunting them down.
She remembered the way the Immortal was dressed when he murdered Chris. It was possible that he was a commander of the North American region.
Whoever was in charge now was unknown.
As much as she wanted to call him Leon…he wasn't the kind hearted officer she once knew anymore.
But it doesn't change anything…it doesn't change what he did to Chris. They turned him into a monster…but he enjoyed killing my brother. There was no remorse. They took his humanity from him…
"So you're saying there's a possible weapon to fight against them?"
"Yes. If we can find a way to neutralize the virus, it's theoretically possible to turn the tide in our favor." Sherry replied.
"Why didn't you day anything to us—"
"I had to be sure, Claire."
She hissed, as medical dressing was wrapped around her waist. They were fortunate to also have medical supplies in the communications room. Sherry assessed that the blow she took left bruising, but she couldn't feel an indication of broken ribs. Even then, it would take some time for her to heal.
"You said that you needed his blood." She said. "He's not going to just hand it over. The camp is already at risk as it is."
This time, Sherry hesitated.
Minutes passed before she spoke. "I know. But Marcus is right. He's a danger to the camp. I need time to formulate a plan, and we can go from there—"
"Time we don't have a lot of." She reminded Sherry.
The dressing was finished.
She pulled herself from the conference table. "Marcus also said a lot of other things." She pulled the black shirt she wore over her head. "He's resented me ever since I took over. I don't trust him not to do anything stupid to jeopardize this camp.
"He's running scared. They killed his entire unit and his wife. And to a certain degree, he feels responsible. He's just trying to protect the camp. Don't fault him for that." Sherry said.
Soon the bomber jacket followed. She was careful, allowing it to hang over her shoulders.
"I know. But I still don't trust him. And neither should any of you."
. . . . .
She wasn't surprised to find the woman in her lab, neither did she ask what happened.
It was obvious from the bruises she endured.
J21 was, in some ways similar to L31.
She felt a bit of sympathy for the humans under Immortal rule, but did everything possible to mask it, even killing in the name of the regime. There were times where the woman snuck downstairs to speak with her. She didn't know whether to consider the relationship friendly, but it was clear that J21 didn't resent her, as if she knew the truth behind her viral upbringing.
"You only did what you were told." Her soft, monotone voice interrupted her work at one point. "The consortium did this. I don't know why…he forces you to make more of us."
"I...don't have a choice..."
"...I know..."
She didn't know if W13 knew about their interactions. The woman always disappeared before the guards arrived to bring her to his chambers.
"I…won't ask what happened…" She said, as J21 lifted herself onto the medical gurney. "…how hurt are you…?"
The woman hissed; her sharp canines visible. Dried, tar-like blood clung to her pale skin and the long, leather gothic dress she wore. Her long blond hair was a mess, matted with the same familiar substance.
Whatever W13 did to her, it wasn't going to heal all on its own.
"…I'll…live." It was the only pained response she heard. "…I should have never…embarrassed him during our…meeting with the others. It was foolish—"
"You…shouldn't let him…do this." She approached J21. "It only gives him more power to do what he wants—"
"…All of us…are forced to follow orders...Ms…Rebecca…" Her sharp tone cut her off mid sentence. "…do you think…it's that simple to defy him…? I was punished…for L31's disappearance…"
"But you had nothing to do with it—"
"He…doesn't see it that…way. He wants L31 captured…and brought here to be reminded of his position as commander..."
"Who…controls the North American territory now…?"
"…E12." (1)
She was familiar with the Immortal. E12 was jealous of J21 and her being close to W13. She had only seen the woman a few times, but knew she was nothing short of merciless. Countless humans were tortured and experimented on for her amusement in her own private lab. She was once an Italian native, a CEO of an organization known as TriCell. It was soon absorbed by the Umbrella Consortium and she herself became their experiment.
With the news of L31's supposed treason, it wouldn't surprise her that the woman had her sights set on the last few resistance factions remaining.
"…He wants me to work with her to retrieve L31…wherever he's hiding in the North American territory—"
J21 cut herself off and shook her head. "…I have…spoken too much. You weren't supposed to know about this. Forget that this conversation took place between us. Is that understood?"
Her tone grew cold, only to mask her emotions.
She was familiar with the woman's personality. There was information she knew only because it was shared it with her. They were both prisoners under the tyranny of a dictator willing to make others suffer for the sake of his twisted ideology.
"…Understood." She replied.
She began her work.
. . . . .
It was a mistake for her to escape his grasp.
As soon as bullets pierced the door of the room she barricaded, her scent was gone. She crashed through the only vacant window available in the house, possibly injuring herself in the process. Blood peppered the windowsill, allowing him to taste it.
He never forgot the sweetness it carried.
Redfield…
He figured as much that her brother Chris was the leader of a much larger resistance faction he kept hearing about. He was known as the executioner in his territory. All the other factions fell before him, except this particular one.
They were hidden well, avoiding capture.
Until now.
They held him captive as a 'hostage' in their camp, believing they can contain him long enough to formulate a plan.
His eye opened.
It didn't take him long to realize that he had lost consciousness. The only thing he remembered was his fingers wrapped around strands of the Redfield girl's hair.
She eluded him once more, just as before.
Her allies should have been dead.
She should have been his new toy by now.
He questioned why he saved them in the first place; why he turned against his unit. It was yet another reckless mistake that damned him a traitor of the regime.
Why did he keep allowing these weak emotions to interfere with his jurisdiction?
They were supposed to be gone, only to be replace with his desire for vengeance against the humans.
The Redfield girl should have been his to toy with, to manipulate until she begged for death. But a shred of humanity remained; a shell of his former self. It was still fighting the virus, slowly emerging from its dormant state. It was preventing him from eradicating this resistance faction.
His rage mounted, as he rose from the floor, gripping the metal table for support. The material groaned under his grip. His gaze was focused on the door he dented not too long ago.
A predatory grin formed as he approached the structure.
The dent was a focal point, enough for him to pry it from its hinges. Then, it was only a matter of finding her and the rest of the humans she protected.
'I won't let you do this—' His pathetic humanity was resisting, again.
'Then try to stop me, if you can, little human conscience.'
'Stay the hell away from her—'
'Or what? We can't die. Even if you tried to stop me, it will only prolong the inevitable. Stop fighting me. We should have taken her a long time ago but you let her escape. But then again, we were led to a much bigger prize—'
'Leave them…alone…!'
He ignored the pleas, the weak cries to stop.
Nothing will stop him from obtaining his prize.
Author Notes
Very sorry for the late update. I haven't forgotten about any of my stories. I have been busy and we're in the middle of a pandemic. Hopefully more updates will come.
In case everyone is still confused about the naming of the Immortals, I will give a rundown. The Immortals are named like specimens by the Umbrella Consortium. The letter in front of their number is the beginning of their first name. They continue referring to themselves as specimens because they felt no need for actual names and their specimen numbers is a reminder of what was done to them.
E is Excella
W is Wesker
A is Ada, A7 is Alex
N is Nicolai
K is Krauser
J is Jill
L is Leon