Alyssa sat on the floor, or rather, on the thin rug on the floor, which wasn't much better, and thought to herself, I will not jeopardize our safety just because my ass hurts. I will not jeopardize our safety just because my ass hurts. I will not jeopardize our safety just because my ass hurts.

But really, this was extremely uncomfortable.

She stood up carefully, trying not to wince at the sharp pain that shot through her tailbone as she did, and David looked away from his dozenth game of minesweeper. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm great," she answered. "Just a little anxious, I guess. Wish there was more room to walk around."

Honestly, that wouldn't have been any more comfortable, as her feet were also hurting like sin from all the walking she'd been doing the last couple of days, but at least it would have been a different kind of uncomfortable.

"Okay. Let me know if you want to sit down for a bit."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm good, though."

She knew that David would feel bad if he knew she was in pain sitting on the floor, and she didn't want to risk him getting it into his head to swap seats with her or go out and look for another chair. They were safe right here, and he needed to be comfortable more than she did. He had a broken ankle, for goodness sake.

She paced back and forth a little. As she did, it occurred to her that she really was anxious, and not just a little. She was worried about Chris, Sheva, and Reynard.

She knew it was silly of her to be concerned for them – they were obviously all extremely capable soldiers. But it really wasn't silly at all, was it? After all, they were facing a veritable army of mutants, and the king mutant was some unstoppable freakazoid. Were they really going to fight a man who could run faster than the human eye could track, hit hard enough to dent steel, recovery from any injury?

"Oooh, got the big puzzle. Finally, I'm so bad at this game. Hey, you want to play a few rounds?"

Her fear for her new friends kind of washed out any playful impulses, but she recognized that playing a game would be better for her than standing around being sad, so she shrugged and said, "Alright. Thanks. You stay sitting, though."

"I really don't mind standing up for a while," David insisted as she wheeled his rolling desk chair out of the way. It was one of the cheap, nice kinds with great padding that flattened out really fast and hadn't flattened out yet. At least, that was how David described it. She was intent on not finding out for herself.

She ignored him and leaned down, hunching over the desk, to see David's completely swept minefield. It was a big one, ninety bombs. "Nice," she commented.

"Thanks."

She reset it, blanketing the field in scores of squares of inconsequential death that could be avoided only through luck and logic. She clicked a square at random to begin.

BOOM! She lost. Logic only came into play once you had a few corners and free spots. She reset and tried again.

BOOM!

She reset again.

BOOM!

David laughed. "Getting all your bad luck out of the way early? Good strategy."

She managed a little puff of laughter, too. She tried again, and this time she got a good chunk of squares cleared on the first try. She was off.

She started off clearing all the corners and easy mines, then narrowed her attention down when the obvious spaces were cleared. She didn't really have a mind for this sort of puzzle. She preferred solitaire.

She got to a point where she was pretty sure he'd have to just pick one and hope for the best, but the odds weren't good for her. She was going back and forth between two, still half trying to logic it out, when her radio started buzzing in her ear.

She jumped, startled. She'd completely forgotten she had it on since she hadn't picked up a single transmission since overhearing the security team yesterday. Which reminded her – she'd swapped off of security, so her radios were set to Command and B.S.A.A. This transmission was coming from one or the other.

"…is Jill Valentine, I repeat, come in. Can anybody read me? Anyone at all?"

Alyssa considered answering. The woman sounded desperate. But she couldn't remember which frequency this was, and if it was the Command frequency, then she wouldn't want to give away that she was here.

She started reaching for her notebook, and held up a hand to David for silence, pushing the earbud into her ear with the other to signal it was the radio, and the question that had almost tumbled out of him cut off instantly.

The radio started up again as she struggled to get the radio and the notebook next to each other to compare the frequencies. "Please, if there are any remaining B.S.A.A. forces out there, I need a response, now!"

She let the notebook flip closed. It was the B.S.A.A. one, not Command.

She wasn't sure how the radio worked, so she guessed, holding it up to her mouth and pressing the big round button in the middle. "Hello? Um, Jill Valentine? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you. Who is this?"

Alyssa bit her lip. This was the B.S.A.A. channel, but she couldn't be sure that meant it was only B.S.A.A. on it. Whoever this woman was, Alyssa couldn't afford to let her know too much.

"I'm a friend of the B.S.A.A. Who are you trying to contact?"

"My partner, Chris Redfield. I have information for him that is vital to the success of his mission."

She frowned automatically and said, "I thought Sheva was Chris's partner."

"…So you do know them. Listen, I'm not going to ask who you are, but if you're in contact with them, you need to tell them this: Wesker cannot be beaten as he is. But there is a way to weaken him. He takes a medication called PG67A/W. It's what gives him his abilities, but if he overdoses on it, it can be dangerous – even lethal. Chris needs to get that medication and administer it to Wesker. That's the only way he can beat him."

Alyssa gasped. That was the information they'd all been after. But Chris and Sheva weren't on this line…

Why aren't they on this line? She thought miserably. They heard my transmission yesterday. Why aren't they hearing this? Or maybe they are and they just can't respond?

If they weren't receiving this transmission, then she wasn't sure there was anything she could do. "That's…that's really helpful," she said, which was not a very helpful thing to say. "I'm nowhere near Chris and Sheva right now, though, so I can't really relay it to them. Can you just keep repeating that information on this channel until they respond?"

"No! If this channel doesn't get disrupted within the next minute by transmission blockers, it will be a miracle. And my partner here says they switched away from this channel yesterday. They need this information. Do you know where they are?"

A nauseous feeling welled up in her, a preemptive response to what she knew was coming her way. "No," she answered. "They just took off and left me here alone. They went to go fight Wesker."

There was a very short pause, and she got the feeling that this Jill Valentine person was putting thought into her next words. If she was about to ask what Alyssa thought she was about to ask, then she'd need to be very persuasive.

"Listen to me. I don't know who you are, but you don't sound like a soldier. That's going to make this request very difficult. But if you can't help…millions are going to die. Maybe billions."

Alyssa shut her eyes tightly.

"And if this information doesn't get to Chris, he's going to die. Sheva, too. Probably all of us."

She clenched her jaw, curled her chin into her chest, and balled her fingers up into fists. As though shutting the world out would somehow keep the responsibility at bay.

"You need to get this information to Chris and Sheva. Go after them, tell them about the medication – and keep an eye out for it as you go. If you can find them, tell them what I said, then they'll have a shot at stopping Wesker. At stopping all of this."

"I can't," Alyssa squeaked.

"Please," Jill begged quietly. "If you don't do this…no one can. You're the only person who can find—"

Static faded quickly into the conversation, making Alyssa's gorge clench. If Jill was right about the signal being blocked, then there really wouldn't be any other way to reach Chris and Sheva.

"Jill?" she asked quickly. "Can you still hear me?"

"—ng up. They're blocking the—sion. Please, don't gi—rything is counting on…"

The static became deafening, and every hint of speech faded out of it. Jill Valentine was gone.

Alyssa tugged the radio out of her ear. The other one, too, after a moment's consideration. She put them both in her pack and sat down on the floor against the wall.

After a minute, David asked, "…Alyssa? Who was that?"

Her mouth felt dry. She took a sip of water and said, "Someone from the B.S.A.A. She says she knows Chris, and she told me about something that can be used to stop that Wesker guy."

David perked up. "What? That's great! They'll be okay, then?"

His expression fell to confusion as she said, "No. They weren't on the line. Apparently they aren't using that frequency anymore. And even if they switched over, it's no use – it's being blocked, now. Someone overheard us talking and blocked it."

"Oh, jeez," he said, crossing his arms as though cold. "Well…Chris and Sheva will still be okay, right?"

She looked at him helplessly. "I don't think they will. Not if half of what Chris told us about Wesker was true. Their only shot is the information Jill just gave me."

He pursed his lips and looked down. He was thinking, though she'd already made up her mind. "Well," he said after a while. "Is there any way to get in contact with them?"

She shook her head. "I think the only way would be to go after them, find them and tell them myself."

"Oh, hell no. You can't go off alone on this ship! You'd get torn to pieces. What if you ran into Wesker?"

She took another sip of water. She was suddenly feeling extremely conscious of the weight of the gun in her pocket, and of all the magazines she had stuffed into every fold of her clothing. She'd just restocked, and hadn't used up much since then. It all felt like it weighed fifty pounds.

"I haven't died yet," she sighed.

He didn't respond. She went over what Jill had said in her mind. If this attack wasn't stopped, millions could die. The idea of billions dying didn't really register to her, as such a number was inherently absurd. That was most of the human race. Millions was bad enough, but at least that number was comprehensible.

And Chris and Sheva – and probably Reynard, too – would be the first to go.

That same fear she'd been feeling earlier, diffuse and throttled, thumped painfully in her chest, making her want to either vomit or cry. She'd only just met those people, but she hadn't spent much time with Ajay, Ruth, Kyle, Mal, or Theron either. She hadn't wanted to lose them. And she didn't want to lose these people.

She would if she sat here playing it safe.

She felt her eyes watering. She raised a fist and wiped one eye before any tears could build up, then the other, then dried the backs of her hands.

She stood up.

"Alyssa, you don't have to do this," David said. But she wasn't entirely sure he believed that himself. She knew she didn't.

She checked her pack to make sure she had everything she would need. Her weapon, too. Everything was good. "Yeah," she said. "I do. I mean, who else can?"

He looked upset, but he didn't say anything else to try and dissuade her. He just stood up, hobbled over to her, and gave her a hug. "You're really brave, you know that? Thanks for everything. Theron was right – we would all have died down there if it hadn't been for you."

She hugged him back. "I'll try to get back soon – as soon as I get the information to Chris and Sheva. Or even Reynard. Okay?"

He nodded and let go. "Alright. Stay safe. Please come back."

"I will," she said without the faintest inkling of whether she was lying or not. Then she turned away from him, lifted the latch on the door, and stepped outside. "Lock up behind me."

"Will do. Just knock out shave-and-a-haircut if you want back in."

The door shut behind her. The latch slid down, leaving her alone in an empty hallway on a ship full of monsters.

She really wanted to knock out shave-and-a-haircut. Instead, she started down the hall.


Jill smacked the console, feeling a surge of dour frustration well up in her. Whoever that was, she'd sounded like some skittish college kid. Whatever Jill had said to her, it wouldn't be enough. They'd need to find some other way to get to Chris and Sheva.

She and Josh had made their way over here to the communications tower, but the trip had been hell on wheels, a real Michael Bay wet dream. Josh's friend, Doug, the one who was flying the chopper, was a character, and was making his way over to them as fast as he could. The way to the range had been destroyed, so he was going to have to pick them up.

She tapped a few keys, trying to get it to work again, but Josh said, "It's no good. It's being jammed. Nevermind – we'll find Chris and Sheva ourselves. Doug should be here soon."

Silver lining to every mushroom cloud, she supposed. They got into the elevator and started up. "Who do you think that was?" she asked.

Josh half-shrugged as they emerged into the cold night. Wispy clouds were pale in the air, drifting quickly in from the sea, and the moon was nearly full. It was a beautiful night, though the apocalyptic conditions made it hard to appreciate it. "HQ mentioned something about a rescue operation for some survivors in a research facility nearby. Our spy, Reynard, recovered one of them, last I checked. Perhaps that's who it was."

Jill began looking around the roof. They'd found a few extra weapons, so now she had a handgun, her auto, and a sniper rifle, Josh a shotgun in addition to his handgun. There was plenty of cover up here, and it was a tall tower. It would be easy enough to defend for a few minutes.

She thought back on all the people she'd seen killed lately – human lab rats, infected and disposed of in the name of science. She'd forced herself to become numb to it, but it had been a harrowing process. A great source of frustration for her had been watching them go meekly to their deaths, time and time again, when they could have fought back. Some may have even stood a chance of escaping, had they been resourceful enough. But she'd never once seen one make even a halfhearted attempt at getting away.

She snorted bitterly. "Well, she won't be any help. By the sound of it, she and any other survivors with her are probably hunkered down in some basement, hiding, waiting for Chris to come back and take them home. That was a waste of a transmission."

Josh elbowed her lightly. "Hey," he cajoled. "You don't know that. Even if she doesn't go after Chris herself, she may find some way of contacting him. And given what that poor girl must already have gone through, we can hardly blame her if she is too afraid to act. Civilians do not belong in a warzone like this."

They heard something. A low growling, coming from one of the two buildings on the tower. They both turned, guns up. "A truer thing was never said," Jill replied, and got ready to dispatch whatever remnant of security was still up here.

Another growl joined the first. Then another. In a minute, they were coming from everywhere, and Josh's eyes widened as Majini started crawling and stepping out from every shadowy nook. A few leapt up through holes in the roof, and a couple more climbed up the edges of the building. Looked like they were still in for a fight.

Josh was looking around quickly, trying to catalogue every opponent. He was probably thinking the same thing she was – a rooftop was easy to defend until it got swarmed. This rooftop was already crawling with enemies. They'd just walked into an ambush. "Shit! There's no escaping these guys." He hit his radio. "Where the hell are you, Doug!?"

"I'm almost there! You worry about keepin' Ms. Valentine safe, and let me worry about gettin' you out!"

Jill saw a group of three Majini running past a red barrel, which she'd learned early on meant explosive. She'd learned it when she'd seen Excella walking past one early on in her incarceration. Wesker had called out, "Be careful around those, they're highly flammable." Excella had waved airily, mostly ignoring him. Jill had forced a brief bout of control and brought her gun up to shoot it as the woman had leaned against the wall it was pushed up against to keep it out of the sun.

Wesker had dashed over in a black blur, put a hand on her wrist to move the gun aside, and leaned down to speak softly in her ear. "Nice try, dearheart," he'd said, and had sounded heartily amused. He'd caressed her cheek, then tapped it playfully, chuckling, as she'd relaxed dourly back into submission. Excella had never even noticed.

She raised an arm for cover and shot the barrel, and the three Majini were taken out. Josh said, "Explosive barrels? That's helpful. We'll be alright, we just need to hold out for a few minutes."

They both headed to one of the little buildings. Jill sharply kicked the door in, and it hit a Majini that had been lurking inside. The thing barked like a dog, and she rushed in and dispatched it with her knife before it could retaliate.

The forces began pouring in, but she covered the window while Josh covered the door, and they were able to keep the throng at bay. She tried to use her knife and martial arts as much as possible, as they were starting to run low on ammo. At this rate, she wasn't sure how much help she'd be to Chris after all.

They heard the elevator ding outside, and a loud, deep growling started up. She poked her head out to see what the problem was…then gasped and ducked back in. "Take cover!" she shouted.

Josh didn't hesitate, which was good. If he had, he'd have been punched full of holes. As it was, machinegun fire poured in the window, passing by Josh where he stood pressed against the wall. A few Majini coming in got hit, and were easy to dispatch once the fire ceased.

She could hear the new opponent, a red-bereted, sunglass-wearing tank of a Majini making its way over. Josh remained calm, though things wouldn't go well for them when that thing got in here. "How do you want to handle this?" he asked. "I'm not sure we have the weaponry to take it down."

Jill scowled. It was getting closer, though the rest of the Majini outside seemed to be thinning. "Can you cover me?"

"Of course. Wait! Where are you—?"

The gunner was nearly to the door now. Josh was right, they didn't have enough ammo to kill that thing, and it would be too risky to lead it around to all the gas cannisters. This was where she came in. He'd already told her several times that her knifework was impressive. Time to show him what she was really capable of.

She darted through the window, slipping around the few Majini remaining out there. Around the corner, the gunner kicked open the door. She came around, and before it could either notice her or step inside, she jumped up, knife out and gun away, and landed on its back.

It roared as her knife came down once, twice, three times, putting deep, gushing gouges in the back of its neck. She'd mounted the thing, squeezing it with her knees, and now she loosened them and slipped down as it dropped its gun with one hand and reached back to grab her. The barrel thunked against the ground. It missed, and she scrawled a few deep lines on its back through its shirt.

There were two Majini behind her, and she quickly tried to compute how to handle them, but before she needed to they went down in a burst of gunfire. Josh was covering her.

"Jill, you are insane!" he yelled as the Majini gunner picked up its weapon again.

She didn't answer. Instead she waited for it to swing the barrel around to hit her. The thing probably weight a few hundred pounds, and would break every bone in her body if it hit. It didn't though, as she jumped nimbly over it and lashed out half a dozen more times as the gunner swayed in the wake of its heavy missed blow.

She slipped around the thing as it roared, dropped the weapon, and reached for her again. Its arms were too meaty to allow it much range of motion. It picked the weapon up again, by which time its clothing was in crimson tatters from her continual strikes.

She got a ribcage completely exposed, and took a few seconds to sink the five-inch blade in to the hilt several times in short succession. Blood began gushing out in a steady stream, and the Majini roared again.

This went on for another minute. It swung at her, tried to shoot her, tried to grab her, all while she darted and danced around it in a whirlwind of steel. It never came close to hitting her, and thanks to Josh, nothing else did either.

The killing blow was landed when she finally got on its back again, brought her hand around, and managed a perfect angle on the neck. She sank that blade in and drew it around in a full crescent, and a thick crimson sheet of blood – literally a sheet – flared out of the gunner's neck.

It gurgled, clutching at the wound, but it did no good. She jumped off and ducked back into the building. Josh also took cover, and the Majini, blinded in its death throes, began firing wildly at anything that moved.

They heard it when it dropped. The gun went silent. They both stepped out to see the remaining Majini presence largely lying on the ground, rolling around agony, riddled with bullets.

Josh looked between her and the figure on the ground, which was bleeding from a hundred different small wounds. "Damn, woman! Remind be never to bring a machinegun to a knife fight!"

She laughed, and he did as well. For a man with such a deep voice, he had an oddly high and musical laugh.

It cut off abruptly as both elevators – the one they'd come up in, and the one across from them – both dinged at once.

The doors slid open. Thankfully there wasn't another gunner, but one elevator held a dozen more normal Majini while the second held two chainsaw-wielders. Those were bad news. What was worse, both elevators closed and looked to be heading back down.

"More enemies on the way," Josh said grimly, and hit his radio. "Doug, you need to stop lollygagging and get here now!"

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Just tell Ms. Valentine to hold on for me a bit longer!"

Josh made a noise of frustration, and Jill only spared a short breath of amusement. There was work to be done.

The next few minutes were hectic. They couldn't stay in the buildings anymore, not with those chainsaw freaks, so they pushed their way through forces all around the building, staying on the move and not letting themselves get cornered. They led the chainsaws past gas cans and explosive barrels, and these ended up doing the bulk of the damage to them. They got both chainsaw's down…right before the two elevators reached them again.

More and more Majini were swarming in, and as the next group came up, a second gunner arrived as well. They both flung themselves behind a building for cover when it spotted them.

The radio came on again. "Ah! Oh, for fuck's sake! I got B.O.W.s flying all over the place!"

Josh's eyes widened in horror as bullets riddled the wall beside them, spraying them with shards of concrete. "Oh, no. Those things took down one of our choppers yesterday!"

"I have to make a detour – couple more minutes—"

He cut off shortly, though not violently. "He'll be okay," Jill said. If this guy was good behind the wheel, he'd be able to avoid the Kipepeo. But they needed to kill that gunner before he got here, otherwise he'd be in serious danger. But they were out of explosive barrels, and low on ammo. This was going to be a rough fight.

"You take the Majini, I'll take the gunner again!" she said, and split off before he could argue.

"Wait, Jill – argh! Okay, go!"

She heard him shooting rapidly in the background as she looped around the building and went for the gunner. This time it saw her before she could get a good hit, and she was forced to duck instead of jump as the barrel swung around. She knifed up the thing's legs, shearing through the heavy fabric. It kicked her, and though the kick only grazed, she was still sent tumbling back. That would be a bruise tomorrow.

If there is a tomorrow, she thought wildly as she rolled to avoid the next barrage of bullets. She got behind a metal crate and waited for the hail to stop. When it did, the gunner walked over to get her, and as it went one way she went the other and tried for the back again.

Nope, it swung around and she had to dodge again. This gunner was a lot tougher than the last one. Part of this may have been the trickle of enemies getting through Josh and coming after her, and part of it may have just been that this was a faster Majini…but Jill knew what the real problem was. She was getting tired.

Frustration welled up in her as she went for a series of cuts and failed because her reflexes were too slow and she was forced to dodge another attack. The frustration deepened to alarm as she was confronted by two more Majini, then the alarm brightened into mad amusement as the gunner whirled around and caught both of them with a sweep of its gun, but then the gun was dropped and the gunner's fist shot out to grab her—

She tried to dodge, but her muscles were exhausted. One leg chose that exact moment to give out on her, and she fell. The grasping, meaty fingers followed her, and she scrambled back towards the edge of the building, tiredness crashing over her in a sudden wave, and she thought, Oh my God, I can't do this. Chris—

Chris wasn't here. The fingers closed around her jumpsuit, and the gunner hoisted her into the air. Empty darkness lay behind her, and she could see the gunner's thoughts working slowly in its head. Throw her over, or crush her with its bare hands…?

"Oh no you don't! Jill!"

She looked to see Josh rushing the gunner. The gunner turned as well, but Josh's shout had not been a mere outpouring of aggression. It had been a diversion. As the gunner's head twisted in his direction, he rolled to the other side and into its blind spot. He retained most of his forward momentum as he did, though, ducked, and rammed his shoulder straight into the back of the Majini's knee.

The thing crumpled with a howl, stumbling forward – and off the edge.

Jill saw that coming, and she jammed her knife into the thing's wrist. Its hand loosened, and Josh popped up on the edge, reaching for her as the Majini began to wail and fall.

She got out of the grip. Without Josh she would have fallen, but he just managed to catch her and tug her back onto the building. He stepped back and pulled her into a ballroom spin, back against his chest. "Are you alright?" he asked, trying to look calm.

She was breathing hard. "I will be," she panted, and he let go as more Majini rushed towards them. Already, the fight was back on. But…

Whap-whap-whap-whap-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK—

Light flooded the platform as the helicopter finally arrived. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Valentine!" Doug exclaimed contritely in their ears. Then his tone became more dismissive. "Oh, and you too, Josh."

No time for tomfoolery, they both ran towards the only building large and intact enough for the chopper to land on. It was doing so, but as it did, another elevator full of Majini arrived. No, make that two.

She ran for the ladder, but as she did, something shot by in front of her, fast as a rocket in flight, and—

BOOM!

Her vision went briefly white as her senses were overloaded, and it took her several seconds to realize that she was on the ground.

"It was a rocket in flight," she mumbled as Josh got an arm around her and hoisted her up. At least, that's what she tried to say. She was pretty sure whatever came out of her mouth was actually just a garbled mess.

Josh got her to the stairs, and she forced herself to focus. "Rocket…launcher," she gasped, unable to string together more. Something had shot at them. They needed to know what.

He made a noise of assent, letting her know he'd heard her. The Majini were closing in, and Josh had his hands full with her. She tried to make her legs move properly, but no luck. She still needed a few seconds. They didn't have a few seconds.

A Majini ran up to them with a sickle sharp in its hands. Josh swore and tried to grab his gun, but before he could, the Majini toppled over, a flash of red bursting from its skull. They both looked up to see Doug, outside the chopper, covering them as the blades turned lazily above him.

Josh shoved her towards the ladder as more enemies surrounded them, then pulled out his gun and began shooting rapidly to keep them at bay. All headshots. He was a damn good shooter under pressure.

She wasn't sure she'd be able to pull herself up, not injured and tired as she was, but she didn't need to. As soon as she reached for a rung, Doug knelt down and took her hand, hoisting her easily up by her wrist.

As soon as she was up he shoved her gently towards the chopper, looked back down and hollered, "Josh, C'mon! Move it!"

Jill didn't go to the chopper. She groaned and turned back towards the battlefield. "Rocket launcher…there was a…rocket…"

Doug didn't seem to hear her. And Josh was busy trying to extricate himself from the ever-tightening circle of enemies. Doug started firing at them to drive them all back, but it was gonna be close. And none of it would matter at all if a rocket came flying in and blew them all to hell while they were boarding.

"Get going!" Doug shouted back at her over his shoulder. She ignored him, and focused her eyes beyond the immediate carnage. Past Josh, past the throng. It was hard, her eyes were still having trouble focusing, but she caught a hint of movement beyond it all. A Majini, climbing a tower. Something large was strapped to its back.

She hadn't been using her rifle. The enemies were all too close. Now, however, she pulled it out, took aim….and found she could barely hold the damn weapon up. She was still in a bad way from that blast.

Josh got up. He tried tugging her away, saying, "Jill, we need to go, now!"

"Rocket launcher," she gasped again, and fired. The bullet didn't even come close.

Josh pulled her more insistently, and she wondered if he had heard her. It was possible he hadn't, she could barely even hear herself over the roar of all this. She tried lining up the shot again, and fired once more.

She missed, but this time the sights had at least lingered on the Majini for a second. It was setting up the shot. Their ride was about to be toast.

"Doug, we're clear! Come on!"

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

She felt sick with apprehension. She wouldn't get another shot. She lined it up, held her breath, fired…

And missed.

No, not entirely. She thought she maybe hit the Majini's shoulder. But it didn't matter – the launcher fired, the rocket began streaking towards them, and now she was being bundled into the chopper by Josh—

She watched the rocket heading towards them almost in slow motion, a bright streak of light trailing from it. But it was low, too low to hit the chopper, which must have been the intended target. Instead it was racing…towards Doug.

Josh caught sight of it, too, and before it hit, he screamed, "DOUG!"

BOOM!

Jill went sprawling into the seat as Josh shoved her back. He stood in the doorway of the chopper for several seconds. Then, to her horror, he jumped out into the smoke that was now billowing by.

There's no way he could have survived that…Josh, what are you doing?

She tried crawling up to the cockpit, but she was having trouble. She needed to get the rotors going, they would need to move fast. As soon as Josh got back.

He got back before she could even get up front. He was trundling sluggishly towards the doors, dragging…Doug?

She gasped when she saw Josh hopping up and heaving a large, limp bundle into the chopper after him. The cold shock of grief in her chest turned to relief as she saw him – then darkened into horror when Josh laid the man on the floor.

Both of his legs had been blown clean off below the knee.

She felt nauseous as the man's head lolled limply back and forth. He was clearly not conscious. Josh jumped up front, into the driver's seat, saying, "Help him!" as he passed her.

The horror brought her back to herself like near-death exhilaration and fear for her own life hadn't. She grabbed the triage kit off the wall, dropped to the floor beside Doug, opened it up, and began deftly treating the wounds. She didn't bother checking for a pulse, and she doubted Josh had either. It didn't matter. She didn't care if she was treating a corpse. Doug had gotten them out of this mess. He deserved anything they could do for him – even if it was really nothing at all.

She realized that maybe they weren't out of this mess quite yet when she looked back through the door and saw, before they rose and twisted slowly away, the Majini lining up another shot.

"Josh!" she cried. "Rocket incoming!"

"I will fly! Cover us!"

A couple of Majini made it to the chopper before it rose fully out of their reach, and she grabbed her handgun and fired at them as they tried to climb in, almost shaking with anger, disgust, and pure adrenaline. Fuck, she hated these things. She knew she shouldn't, that they were just people who had been forced in this existence like the P-30 had forced her into hers…but damnit, they were ugly, they were vicious, they were mindless, and they had maybe just killed another decent man.

She saw the second rocket as she leaned out, and she thought they were done for. She closed her eyes, turned away – and nearly went flying out of the chopper as the vehicle juked sharply in the air.

The rocket missed them by inches. Certainly not more than a foot. It went a bit farther then exploded, rocking them before they finally drew out of range.

She went back to Doug. She finished binding the jagged, seared stumps that had been his legs, and only after she was completely finished did she reach up and feel for a pulse.

At first, she felt nothing. But then, as the seconds ticked by, she registered it. It was faint and fluttery, but it was there.

She got him into a better, more secure position, raised his legs to keep the blood from the wound, and went up to the front with Josh. "Nice flying," she commented tiredly.

Josh didn't look at her. He just shook his head. "Doug…he would have done better." His tone was dark.

She leaned into the wall beside him. "I'm sorry, Josh."

"He was my friend."

"Is," Jill corrected. Josh didn't respond. Then he blinked, and looked over at her strangely. "Is your friend," she said again. "He's alive. He's not doing great, but I stopped the bleeding, and I don't think he has any injuries besides his legs. If we can get him some help fast, he might make it."

Josh's eyes widened. The darkness clouding them lifted in a spark. Still, following this, he looked horribly torn. She could hear the tightness in his throat as he said, "We can't go back yet. We need to find Chris and Sheva. We need to help them stop Wesker and Uroboros. And if we don't stop them…this will all have happened for nothing."

She knew what that meant. It meant delaying getting Doug the help he needed, maybe delaying until it was too late. She hated the thought of doing that as much as he did, but he was right. They had their priorities, and Doug would have understood that, too. He would understand it, if he ever woke up.

"You're right," she nodded. "Let's go see if we can help them."

The wispy white clouds had thickened to a black and grey bank. Moonlight filtered between them only sparsely, not highlighting them so much as drawing attention to their darkness. The air was cruelly cold, and water vapor kept trying to cling to the windshield.

Chris, Sheva…hold on. Hold out.

We're on our way.


Wesker stood in the booth overlooking the deck where the elevator currently holding Chris and Sheva would let out. Excella was on her way as well. He did wish she would hurry up. The virus took a minute or two to fully reject a genome.

"So, you've made it this far," he said quietly, watching on the security screen as the pair chattered in the little metal box, their supplies and weapons strapped to their backs and hips. He didn't care what they were carrying, what they were saying. It made no difference now. Even if they made it past the next obstacle – highly unlikely, ready-to-fire orbital cannon aside – they would stand no chance against him in single combat. And if that was what it took to ensure his new world, he would take to the field with glee.

"Pity you won't make it much further," he concluded.

Lightning flashed outside, and the memory of all that had happened that night at the Spencer Estate flashed through his mind just as brightly. The images remained a little blurry as a result of his subsequent concussion, but the words were all there.

A new, superior breed of humans given birth by the Progenitor Virus. The Wesker children were entrusted with endless potential. Of them, only one survived…you.

Are you saying I was manufactured?

The words had been bitter on his tongue, the idea dull and tasteless. Him, manufactured? Created and shaped by another? All that he was, all he had accomplished…had he been cultivated, nurtured, pruned like some common houseplant?

Even more incensing had been Spencer's reply, or rather, non-reply. Dismissing his inquiry, as though he were a child asking a question that did not warrant an answer…

I was to become a god! Creating a new world with an advanced race of human beings. However, all was lost with Raccoon City. Despite that setback, your creation still holds great significance...

Wesker had already felt his anger building in him, and the magnanimity with which the weak, dying old man had spoken these last words had stoked those coals. As though his very existence was a gift lavishly bestowed upon him, a lovely gift…yet only a meager consolation to its creator. It seemed that, in Spencer's eyes, he was only a booby prize.

He still recalled the sensation of his fingers tightening into fists, stretching the leather of his gloves and making them squeak faintly, a sound he'd just barely been able to hear over the driving wind and rain pelting the tall, reinforced windows.

Now my candle burns dimly, Spencer had groaned while forcing himself to his feet. Ironic, isn't it?

For one who has the right to be a god…to face his own mortality.

The man had turned, and had almost been startled to see Wesker standing so close.

The right to be a god…he'd mused, eyes glowing behind those dark sunglasses of his. He'd looked on that wrinkled, pitiful man, whose skin was as thin and pale as paper, whose veins glowed purple beneath with oxygen-starved blood, whose faded and jaded muscles shook with the effort of executing even the simplest of motions. He'd reeked of old age and chemical preservatives, a walking corpse.

Wesker's disgust for the man had almost prevented him from touching him – would have, had he not desired to feel the old ape's heart give out on his fingertips.

That right is now mine, he'd stated with his hand thrust through his creator's brittle ribcage. The heartbeat had sped up for a paltry second or two before shutting down entirely. Wesker had pulled his hand free and let the man fall, and Spencer had been dead before he'd hit the ground.

Wesker had stood staring down at the shrunken corpse, his rage fading to satisfied disdain. The right to be a god? You? he'd asked condescendingly of the empty room. Arrogant even until the end. Only one capable of being a god deserves that right.

His gaze had lingered on the man who had created him for longer than he cared to recall now. He'd gone to the window to muse.

Then Chris had arrived.

"The right," he said, looking down at the syringe in his hand. "With Uroboros, I have that right."

Beep!

A quiet door alarm went off, alerting him to the arrival of someone downstairs, at deck level. Not Chris and Sheva, who had only traveled half the elevator's height in the short time he'd been reminiscing. No, that would be Excella.

He twirled the syringe in his hand, and as he headed down to meet her, he genuinely pondered how to proceed. The corpses outside would be more than sufficient to keep Chris and Sheva busy, and Uroboros did not need to be injected into a living host to thrive. He slid his glove-clad fingers down the smooth metal walls as he went, putting serious consideration into his next move.

His temper had been a bit frayed these last few days with the strain of getting their project off the ground. He had to admit that much. And though Excella's mannerisms had been downright grating, he was also forced to admit that she had likely been under even more strain than he. Did she truly deserve the fate he had ordained for her? Or did she perhaps deserve a bit of slack?

He slipped the syringe into his pocket, needle tip covered and no danger to him, and sighed. A god he was to be, and gods could not always be vengeful. Justice had to be tempered with mercy. And Excella had certainly redeemed herself for her earlier foolery in the last hour or two, carrying out all of his orders briskly and effectively. And he could always find more uses for her.

He nodded to himself. He would give her another chance.

"Excella," he greeted her as he arrived at the bottom stair. She was standing in the middle of the room, shivering slightly, hair tousled by the wind, looking upset. Then she caught sight of him, and all the tension went out of her as she registered the safety inherent in his presence; his ability to overcome all opposing odds. Such faith...how quaint, he mused silently.

"Albert," she gasped, stepping up to him. In her hand was the refrigeration case holding the PG67A/W.

One case.

He eyed this case as she placed a hand on his hip and pressed herself against him. "Oh, Albert, I thought they would be dead, but they got on the ship. They're here, they nearly shot me."

Her mewlings did not stir him. He only asked, "Excella, where is the second case?"

This was important. There should have been two, more than enough to carry him through the upheaval should his facilities be disrupted. If she had left one in a safe somewhere below, he would have to insist on her fetching it. Although, even as he contemplated this, he thought back on the elevator feed. The weapons and supplies on their backs and hips.

The little silver case on Alomar's back.

He felt a shudder pass through Excella's body, and she stepped away. Her eyes, normally eager to meet his with an almost challenging intensity, skipped away. She was looking down and to the side, averting her gaze, and her arms were crossed in front of herself. Perhaps from cold, but her body language suggested a defensive motive as well.

"The doses were all measured out," she said, and his nostrils flared. He did not like it when people failed to answer his questions directly. "And the temperature controls were set. They will last until we can recover them."

His fingers began drumming his hip. His pocket, to be more precise. He could feel the outline of the syringe beneath the supple black leather. "I did not ask whether the amounts were measured. Nor did I want to know about whether you set the temperature on the case. I want to know where. It. Is?"

Excella kept her gaze averted and began pacing nervously around the room. "Like I said, I was attacked by Redfield and that…bitch of his. They nearly captured me, and when they couldn't, they tried to shoot me."

I didn't ask about your run-in with the B.S.A.A., either, he thought coldly as he waited for her to finish.

"One of the shots hit the case. It's too thick to pierce, obviously," she said almost carelessly, waving a hand, and his eyes widened behind his sunglasses. "But I did drop it. It doesn't matter, they do not know what the serum is, odds are they left it behind and we can just go fetch it as soon as—"

"Excella."

She stopped. She finally looked at him, though her gaze didn't travel higher than his torso. "Just as soon as they're dead, we can get back on track," she finished. "To be honest, we should have prioritized that sooner. Once we saw what they were capable of."

Wesker took a deep breath. There were many, many failings that he could forgive. Her vanity. Her lapses in attention. Even her unfathomable arrogance. But to lose his serum, the one thing in all this wide world that may act as an efficient weapon against him…to all but deliver it into his enemies' very hands…

The tension that had been growing in his shoulders dropped away. The fury that had been simmering in him cooled. And he dismissed Excella's latest failure with no further contemplation.

He saw the way she reacted to his sudden mellowing. Her eyes finally rose hesitantly to his own. "Albert, forgive me. I ought to have taken better care of the cases. But we still have the one, and that will suffice until we can get the other. At the worst, I can go back downstairs and measure out some new doses. Perhaps I could do this now?"

He shook his head, stepped forward, and slipped an arm around her slender waist. She was tense at first, but relaxed as he began leading her towards the door. "No, my dear, I have a more pressing task for you just now."

He felt a shiver go through her, and he thought it a shiver of anticipation rather than fear. Silly woman. "Of course, anything. What can I do to make amends for my latest mistake?"

Amends. Mistakes. He had no time for either, not now. He dismissed her mistakes, her failures, and everything else pertaining to her from his mind as he drew the syringe, popped the little rubber cap off, and sunk it smoothly into her neck.

She gasped and cringed away, but the virus was already in. Too late.

Entirely too late.

As he shoved her out into the wind and turned to go back inside – he'd want to watch this spectacle from the viewing deck – he said, "Be a dear and put an end to my old friend, will you?"

"Alb—!"

The doors closed and locked, sealing Excella outside where Chris and Sheva would be emerging any moment now. He spared not a glance or instant of remorse for the woman who had served him mostly faithfully for half of a decade. He merely went upstairs, intent on watching…well, not so much her final moments as the way his more worthy pursuers would deal with them. He had never watched Uroboros consume such a colossal pile of biomass. He wondered what form the construct would take. Would it remain humanoid, or assume a different form altogether?

He got to the top, went to the window, and leaned over to watch as Excella staggered away from the doors and across the deck.


OoO


Haha, yeah, I had fun writing that chapter. As for Alyssa and David being safe...well, how safe can anyone really be in a Resident Evil game?

See you in a few,

The Topaz Dragon