Infinity

Infinity

By Miss Scarlet

Chapter Three: Showdown in the Sewers

There was silence, but only for a moment. Steve let out a burst of triumphant laughter, and scrambled to his feet, diving for the Magnum below the bench. Alfred grinned, his insensitive front forgotten for a moment. Hunk just watched; his big eyebrows raised in an expression of mild curiosity.

Steve stood, and stared at Alfred. And for a moment, they were of the same mind. Somewhere they could hear the metal detector blaring as Walsh made his escape, but they didn't notice.

"Alfred!" Steve laughed, brushing the loose strands of hair out of his eyes. "You came back for me!"

Alfred smiled knowingly. "Of course I did!" he replied with mock outrage. "Did you think I would leave you in the care of Dumb and Dumber? Heh nah, I wouldn't do that."

There was an awkward silence. Steve looked like he was about to burst with repressed thoughts, and his smile broadened. "Thanks, man. You're a pal, you know that? I owe you one. And don't worry, I'll get it right this time."

"No more fainting?"

"If I can help it," Steve grinned. He turned to Hunk. "Are you Hunk? I owe you one, too. Thanks."

Hunk nodded. "You must be the infamous bodyguard, Steve. Not quite what I expected."

"Neither are you!" Steve joked, his eyes twinkling happily. "You guys are the best."

Alfred couldn't help but smile; Steve's cheerfulness was strangely infective. He rubbed the back of his head with a mildly embarrassed smile. "It was nothing," he said. "And I've chosen a fine time to become the modest hero. Ah well what now?"

"What do you mean?" asked the still-exuberant Steve.

"I suggest we head for the plane," Hunk interjected thoughtfully. "We are far too ill-equipped to take on any more of the men from the company. We should regroup on the mainland and assess our supplies."

Steve snorted. "I don't understand a word of that. Military jargon is beyond me."

"It's hardly military jargon," Hunk began sheepishly, rather affronted by the boy's honesty. "But we should go straight to the airport. The best thing we can do is get off this island."

"I agree," Alfred said, nodding. "I can't stand wandering around without a gun. It's like I'm being left out" he trailed off and glanced at Steve, who had gone immensely pale. "Steve? You all right? You're not going to faint again, aren't you?"

Steve made a half-hearted motion with his shoulders, and clutched at his chest. "Don't leave me again Alfred" he gasped, as he crumpled to the floor.

---

Veronica beamed. She climbed easily up the winding staircase, her soul light and happy. Now it was all hers! This estate, the noble name, the family history, the coat of arms it would need some modification, but it would do, for now. She felt so happy she could burst, and her happiness would float down like feathers onto the people below. Only they didn't deserve a shred of Veronica's happiness. They scurried about like ants, each frantically trying to make a living, and get a good job but for what? They retire and then they die. It's no life for anyone who truly understands the world around her.

"There was a friendly but naïve King" she sang quietly as she surveyed the grounds below her in all their splendour.

"Who wed a very nasty Queen

The King was loved but the Queen was feared.

Til one day strolling in his court

An arrow pierced the kind King's heart.

He lost his life and his lady love"

She broke off, and gazed across the horizon hungrily. "Berceuse" she whispered. "A tragic tale of the gullible old man who takes a girl under his wing only death can follow"

Jonathan Hatton appeared at her shoulder, with a curiosity unbecoming of anyone. "What was that you were singing, Miss Ashford?"

"An old song my mother used to sing to me as a child. A lullaby. Berceuse, it's called."

"It's a very beautiful song, miss," he said slowly, smiling weakly.

She watched him closely. "Don't be disheartened. It must be the end of an era for you. But from the end or an era must spring the beginning of a new one. I shall treat you well. Ahh the eagle will fly again."

"Excuse me miss? Only I don't think I understand what you are saying."

"I don't expect you to. But now I am truly free, like an eagle. So it must fly. And this is an important day. It is the day I come into my own now you might accuse me of being insensitive, what with my father passing away but look to the future. I will create a masterpiece."

"Like a painting, miss?" he asked, scratching his head.

"Almost. In years to come, my name will be a blessing. My descendants will worship me. Yes, I owe a lot to my father But now I am free. I am free of him, and my real family, and the responsibility that comes from being poor. It is the start of my reign I will be a very good queen"

---

Alfred yawned. He stared morosely at Steve's still form, and tapped his foot steadily against the floor. "Come on don't keep me waiting much longer Steve"

Steve's eyes immediately flicked open, as if he had heard Alfred's request. When he saw Alfred he broke into a grin. "Alfred! You're still here!" he sighed gratefully.

"You sound like you don't trust me," Alfred sniffed, a small smile playing across his features. "You should know better by now."

Steve dragged himself into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. "I'm really grateful Alfred. I feel like I can rely on you. And I never thought I'd hear myself saying that," he laughed, with a sideways glance at Alfred. "Where's Hunk?"

"Outside," Alfred replied with a shrug. "He got bored. As did I, actually."

"Oh, come on! I wasn't out cold for that long, surely. No, forget it, I don't want to know. I'd only depress myself." He got to his feet slowly, rubbing his back. "All this fainting – if it goes on much longer I'm gonna get a bad back."

Alfred smiled. "Old before your time."

"Right," Steve agreed. "You know, I just thought about this. I mean, our situation."

"That's nice," Alfred said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"No, no, don't joke. I just think well, we're friends, right? And when we get off this island, things are gonna stay that way."

"They are?" Alfred asked, moderately shocked. He scratched his head. "I guess you're right. I never really about it. I had other things on my mind."

"Well, if you had spent as much time in the land of nod as I did, you would have had time to think about it too. Hell, I was halfway to realising the meaning of life!"

Alfred laughed, but stopped when Steve blanched and clutched his sides. "Not again, surely!" he exclaimed, and rushed forwards to Steve's aid. Alfred caught him as he fell, Steve's face as white as a sheet. Alfred's screwed up in concentration.

"You weigh far too much" Alfred groaned as Steve slipped into unconsciousness.

Veronica thrust her arms into the air impatiently. "Don't keep me waiting! What can be taking you so long? I have cried for years cried in the hope that one day someone would be able to hear me I don't want to have wasted those tears, Steve. I need Alfred, and Alexia. Send them home! Where are my children?"

Alfred almost dropped Steve in shock. "What the hell was that? I heard that!" he cried, pointing at Steve accusingly. "That was Veronica!" he quailed, his voice rapidly becoming high and uncontrollable. "So it was true"

Steve stared blearily at Alfred from his resting place on the floor. "Thanks a lot man. Drop me, why don't ya. Really appreciate it." He trailed off, staring at Alfred's face. "What's the matter? Don't freak out on me."

Alfred backed off, one quivering finger still pointing at Steve. "Veronica is speaking to you! She wants me, she needs me!" He stopped suddenly, his mouth hanging open. "I have to I have to go the sewers Veronica, she's in the mansion. I have to go to her. I can't let my ancestors wait any longer. Veronica I'm coming!" He turned on his heel and scampered out through the door, past the bloody corpse of the read-headed man lying forlornly on the floor.

Steve didn't have time to open his mouth and voice an objection before Alfred had vanished. "Hunk!" Steve yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Hunk, get in here! We have to get to the sewers – Alfred's gone!"

---

The sewers were just like any other sewers. Dank, dirty, grimy, wet, cold, miserable places. The long passageway seemed to stretch on for miles, just one long disgusting tunnel of dirt. Steve wouldn't say he was squeamish, but you had to draw the line somewhere.

The smell was indescribably bad. It almost took on a life of its own; spreading invisible clinging tendrils of the stench and smothering you until you struggle to breathe. It was a tangible smell, the result of years of the grime and dirt of the prison being dumped there. Of course, Steve reflected grimly, it's not like they have a sewer maintenance committee. A mental image suddenly sprang to his mind of Alfred in orange overalls and clutching a shovel, wading through the filth, and Steve couldn't repress a smile.

Hunk followed easily, swinging down into the knee-deep sludge, treating it with complete indifference as if he was prancing through a field of flowers. The gun was strapped to his back again, to avoid bringing it into contact with anything in the sewers. Hunk was unusually picky about the condition of his weapons.

Something splashed into the water a few feet away from Hunk, but he didn't even bat an eyelid. Instead, he eyed Steve thoughtfully.

"You aren't gonna collapse on me, I hope," he said amiably, absent-mindedly jamming his hand through his hair. "Because you could drown," he added, as an afterthought.

Steve stared at the water with loathing. It had seeped into his shoes, and his trousers were already saturated. He sighed. "I hope not," he muttered angrily. "Why the hell did Alfred have to use the sewers? Could he not have found a more hygienic hidden passage?"

Hunk laughed softly. "Carry on talking like that and people are gonna think you're a sissy." He grinned lazily, running the idea over in his mind. "Come on then," he said after a while, rubbing his hands together briskly. "Let's get going. Something tells me Alfred isn't gonna wait for us to catch up, if you know what I mean."

Steve nodded glumly, and began to wade through the slimy water. What on earth possesses people to use sewers as thoroughfares? he asked himself bitterly. Would a road be too much to ask? An underground passage? An underwater passage? Hell, anything would be better than this.

"Why do you keep fainting anyway? Alfred said it had something to do with you being dead. I just assumed he was off his rocker," he laughed, glancing at Steve, as if worried that Steve would faint again. "I'm not sure what he meant, the old bat."

"Yeah, I was dead," Steve replied, with a shrug. "So was he. I killed him, actually, and his sister killed me. Long story," he added, noticing Hunk's incredulous expression. "But I think we understand each other more now. I think I don't know. I thought he trusted me."

"Uh huh," Hunk replied uneasily. "Well, it takes all sorts. I'm not even going to bother trying to understand you two. It would give me a migraine."

They walked in companionable silence for some time; both trudging steadily along the sewers, Hunk with casual ease, Steve with his face screwed up in effort and concentration.

"Uh Steve?" Hunk asked after a while, a puzzled frown resting on his vast forehead. "You noticed that there haven't been any you know zombies around? I thought you said the place was teeming with them, only I haven't seen any. Isn't that a little odd?"

Steve thought. That's right I haven't seen any monsters at all. This company must be really efficient "You're right," he said. "The company have really cleaned this place out. And I wish I meant that literally," he added miserably.

Hunk laughed heartily. "It's just a bit of dirt, kid, it'll wash out. I'm a little disappointed, I suppose. I had a laugh with the undead last time, I was looking forward to more of the same."

"Last time?" Steve asked, picking his way past an unidentifiable lump floating in the water. "There was a last time?"

"Long story," he grinned. "Not one I like to discuss, if you know what I mean." Hunk grimaced. "I saw some pretty heavy shit."

Steve smiled gently; unsure whether Hunk was being entirely serious. He was in an unusually reflective mood, and was frowning again, so Steve quickly let the smile drop. "There's something I meant to ask you," he said thoughtfully.

"Shoot," Hunk said. "Nothing too personal, mind," he grinned, giving Steve playful thump on the shoulder and sending him skidding forwards a few paces.

"Where are all your team-mates? Umbrella would never send you on a mission on your own; they're too precise, too orderly. They don't like to take risks. So why did they send you on your own? Surely they have no shortage of operatives."

Hunk scratched the back of his head. "Um yeah, sure. Nobody wanted to come with me, see, because of my reputation. They were scared, kinda like how you are about this muck."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Don't give me that reputation' shit, Hunk! Alfred may believe it but I certainly don't. So tell me what really happened when I sent you that email."

Hunk stayed silent for some time, his eyes downcast. Eventually, he sighed. "Alright kid, I'll tell ya. When I got your email, I was on the move, like I told Alfred. Umbrella didn't read it and sent it straight on to me, which was surprising. I guess they trusted me enough. Anyway, I telephoned Head Office and asked for some men to take with me. They uh they said no."

Steve said nothing. Hunk seemed incredibly nervous, and he constantly wrung his hands together. Whatever he was about to admit to, it was important.

"I asked why, and they said they couldn't spare any men for trivial missions like that. Well, uh, that was a shock. I didn't think the whole training facility and the prison were particularly trivial, if you see what I mean. Anyway, I told them that I'd go on my own, and I wouldn't cause any trouble. I thought they could spare one man but they said that all their planes were in use, and they couldn't spare any weapons for me. I suppose they thought that would put me off.

"I knew that was a lie. Since when are all Umbrella's facilities in use? It was impossible. I told Head Office that I would use my own plane, and that I could bring my own weapons, and still they said no. By this point I was getting severely pissed off, as you can imagine. And I asked them why they were so against me going to help Alfred, and they said some crap about him not being essential to Umbrella functioning correctly, whatever that meant.

"So I told them where to go, and said I'd go help Alfred anyway. I mean, he's I've known him for ages. He's a friend. I just wouldn't do that to him. We'd been through a lot together, and you don't ignore pleas for help like that."

"And what did Umbrella say?" Steve prompted, uncomfortable. I thought Alfred was my friend and I guess I feel pretty betrayed. But Hunk has known him for years he must be devastated. He doesn't show it, mind that's how I should be behaving. Alfred why did you do this to us?

"Umbrella said that if I went to Rockfort Island I could forget about coming back," he said quietly, with a sideways glance at Steve. "It was an ultimatum. A threat. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's threats," he growled. "Then they said that if I went Umbrella would consider me an enemy of the company, and I'm sure you know what that means."

Steve gasped. He knew what that meant. They'd send people out hunting him; they would order his death. He would be watched, just like Umbrella had watched Chris Redfield. He would become a fugitive all because of friendship, and loyalty. All because of Alfred.

"So I basically told them to go screw themselves," he said, with a nervous laugh. "I told them that their stinking job could go to hell, and I was going to save Alfred. So, I guess I'm out of a job right now." He laughed, but his eyes were sad. "I always liked working for Umbrella. I just didn't know they were so cold. Actually, I'm surprised they haven't sent troops out to the island yet, to intercept me. But they would probably consider that to be helping Alfred, so that's pretty much out of the question," he growled. "Shit!" he suddenly snapped, thumping the wet stone of the wall.

"I understand," Steve said quietly. "So now what? What are you going to do with yourself? Get revenge on Umbrella?"

Hunk stared at him. "I'm sure you do, kid, I'm sure you do. But I'm not going to go around doing something stupid like getting revenge. I'm not that sort of guy. No, I've kept my options open. I've had offers, over time, from other companies. Hell, I've probably had one from the guys upstairs," he said, gesturing upwards. "I'll check a few of them out. HCF are supposed to be pretty good."

"You seem to know what you're talking about," Steve conceded, with a shrug. "I wouldn't fancy working alongside Walshy-boy up there though."

Hunk laughed, his deep voice resonating throughout the sewer. "I hear ya kid. I hear ya. Nobody would blame you for that sentiment." Hunk stopped walking. "What was that noise?"

Steve shrugged. "Someone's footsteps. Whoever it was, they were of above average size. Heavy tread, probably a male. Approaching rapidly from behind us."

Hunk stared at him. "That's some hearing you got there, kid. I'm impressed. I just heard a few splashes."

Steve grinned. "It's a side effect of being dead," he said, his smile growing. "I think it could be Walsh. He fits the description. He must be pretty hacked off about that soldier of his. You should probably get that gun of yours ready for some action."

"Big freak. Shouldn't be holding my friends hostage then, should he." Hunk said, shrugging. "So Steve, you still got that Magnum?"

"Uh yeah," Steve said, not concentrating. Hunk had just called him his friend in an absent-minded way. What did that mean? Probably nothing but it made a change. He grasped the handle of his Magnum and pulled it out from its resting-place in his waistband. "Yeah, I got it."

They both stood still, guns at the ready, listening to the footsteps that even Hunk could hear clearly. Steve bit his lip. With each moment we spend here, Alfred gets further away. I wish I knew what he was going to do It has something to do with Veronica oh, don't do anything stupid, Alfred Don't do anything I wouldn't do! He realised the slim chances of that happening and almost smiled. The footsteps grew louder still.

"Come on," Hunk murmured. "Don't keep me waiting" He rocked from side to side slightly, shifting his weight with impatience.

The tension was unbearable.

Eventually, a lone figure appeared, standing forlornly in front of them, a pistol clutched in his fist. He was breathing heavily, and with the other hand he steadied himself against the wall. It was Walsh. His brown eyes were flashing madly, catching the glow from the lamp in its bracket nearby and gleaming wickedly.

Hunk backed away a few steps, and gestured for Steve to do the same. Walsh was advancing steadily, his gun raised; his lips still twisted into a sneer.

Steve's foot struck something soft and slippery; his legs shot from underneath him and he sprawled backwards into the water. He thrashed wildly as the disgusting slime invaded his nostrils and his mouth, overwhelming him with nausea. He fought his way to the surface and pulled himself into a sitting position, spitting water frantically in an attempt to dispose of the foul liquid.

Walsh's gun was pointing directly at his face, no more than a foot away. Steve brought his Magnum up to meet it in a split second, praying silently that it's brief trip underwater hadn't ruined any of the mechanisms.

Steve blinked. God, this scene looks familiar

Steve slid to a halt beneath Alfred, his gun raised. For a moment they both stared at each other, their faces not masking their obvious hatred.

Then there was a single second that seemed to last for a lifetime. They both realised at exactly the same time, that one, or both of them were about to die.

Steve fired. He wasn't going to take that risk.

His breath caught in his throat, and his finger found the trigger. But it was far too late. Walsh fired twice in quick succession, and Steve gave a horrified gasp before falling clumsily into the water, his gun firing once before it too was submerged.

Hunk sprang into action, motivated by shock, and let loose a spray of bullets into Walsh's heaving body, screaming a formidable cry of rage as he did so. His mind was numb, he couldn't even see Steve although his eyes scanned the surface constantly, and he kept on firing.

Walsh was thrown backwards, releasing a torrent of crimson blood that seeped into the water, turning the murky brown of the sewage into a terrible cloudy red.

Silence fell. Hunk lowered the gun, stunned. He rushed forwards, his heart leaden, his every step taking an eternity.

He fell to his knees, and fumbled blindly beneath the water, until at last his frantic hands found Steve's shoulders, and he hoisted Steve out of the water with a desperate moan of sorrow. "Steve?" he asked, shaking the boy desperately.

Hunk stared at his limp body, his eyes open wide and glazed, his mouth closed firmly, a neat little line of determination, his chest too still for breath.

Steve was dead.

Hunk's eyes burned. His hands shook. His mouth went sickeningly dry. "Oh, God" he whispered, his voice offering a silent prayer to whoever and wherever he thought Steve could be. "Oh, dear God" He realised far too late that he should have protected him, he should have shot Walsh before that stupid stand off could have come about.

"No" he sobbed, hauling Steve further out of the water, with each breath a new sob racking his body. "No Oh, God, Steve I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry" And he cried, knowing he shouldn't, wishing he wouldn't, and hurting more than ever before.

---

Alfred stared uneasily at the ladder. It was badly rusted and all that was holding it to the wall was a flimsy looking bracket. He gingerly placed a hand on the nearest rung, and was not at all surprised when it let out an ominous creak – the sound of ancient metal under strain.

Nonetheless, he placed one foot on the bottom rung, braced himself, and scampered up the ladder as quickly as he could manage. Under normal circumstances he would not even consider such a thing, but he was not under normal circumstances, and he knew that more than anyone.

He scrambled off the ladder with as much dignity as he could muster, and sat for a moment on the cold grass, catching his breath. Above him the branches of an old oak tree swayed in the wind, and Alfred stared at them gloomily. He let his gaze fall to the mansion, the huge towering building where he had spent his childhood, and for a moment he thought it was floating.

A mass of grey completely covered the lower level of the ancient house, and stopped at about head height. Alfred frowned; the mass of grey was moving.

As he watched, the mass became a horde of almost identical bodies. Then it hit him; the palace was completely surrounded by zombies. Hundreds of them, faceless shells of people, all surging forwards, pressing their decaying bodies against the windows and the bricks, constantly trying to get inside. Whatever lay in there – the zombies wanted it. Alfred knew what was in there. Veronica.

He watched them, in their futile attempt to break in. They used none of the force Alfred knew that they had; they treated the building with something bordering on reverence. So Veronica is controlling them, even through death. All the zombies on the island must be here. Christ I didn't know there were so many.

So now what? He couldn't exactly stroll in through the front door, not without being completely torn to pieces by the zombies, which was certainly not the most desirable option. He decided to act on an impulse, something he rarely did.

He stood up, dusted his uniform off until it looked mildly presentable, and walked forwards. His heart was beating like a drum, his blood pounded in his ears, and the result was such a deafening cacophony to him that he was sure the zombies must have heard it.

As he approached the zombies, his fists clenched by his sides, a low murmur of recognition started up as the first zombies noticed him. The murmur spread, growing in volume and intensity as hundreds of misshapen mouths gibbered senselessly to themselves and each other.

Alfred started to shake as he drew closer, the inquisitive faces of the zombies only a few feet away from him. This is a mistake, he suddenly realised. Veronica won't protect me and any second now one of them is gonna lunge

The crowds parted.

In one complex movement, the zombies in front of him wheeled to the side, as graceful as swans, clearing a muddy passageway leading up to the double doors. A ghastly ceremonial guard. So Veronica protected me after all, Alfred thought, his heart filling with a twisted pride. At least she thinks I'm worth protecting.

He made his way carefully along the passage of zombies, keeping his eyes fixed on the door, knowing that if he looked at the zombies properly, and saw how close they were to him, he would have screamed and ran away. He reached out his hands for the cool reassuring wood; all too aware of the many pairs of eyes focussed on him.

He opened the door, relieved beyond comprehension, and hurried through. Stairs to the basement. Where were they? To the right. His thought processes became condensed as he sensed the reality of what he was about to do. To finally do something he had dreamed about since childhood, something he had never thought possible. It all seemed unreal, like a fantastical fairytale.

He slid behind the ancient bookshelves, smelling must and dry paper. He walked in a daze, oblivious to the moaning of the zombies as they crashed back against the door and resumed their battering. His brain seemed frozen with anticipation, and he hurried down the stairs, his feet never slipping on the cold stone steps.

Alfred Don't do anything I wouldn't do!

Alfred jerked upright, the fog immediately clearing from his mind. "Steve?" he whispered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "God Steve I totally zoned out there. Heh don't know what came over me. I can't believe I just walked past all those zombies – Hunk wouldn't have let me do that. He'd have shot them all. And you would have suggested an alternative route. Had me climb one of those trees and break in through a window heh I suppose I just thought that Veronica wouldn't let me die; she needs me."

She needs you? Or does she need that potion tucked into your pocket? A voice in Alfred's head crowed. You're being a damn fool, Alfred. You should have gone with Steve and Hunk and got on that plane. You should be on it now, leaving this island for good.

"Steve, that's not you, is it? No, it can't be. Even you don't talk about yourself in third person." He sighed morosely and continued down the stairs. "I don't know who you are, maybe it's just me, maybe I have split personalities, I don't know. But I have to do this. This is what I was born for. This is my destiny, I can feel it."

Wouldn't you love to turn round and spit in the face of destiny? And fate? Don't you have any free will? It's your choice, Alfred. It's up to you. Not her.

Alfred frowned. "I want to do it. It would save our family. A- Alexia? Is that you? It sounds like you. That's just how you always used to speak to me you told me I could achieve greatness by myself, and by doing whatever I pleased. But it's gone too far, Alexia, things have gone past the point where they can be easily recovered."

Then let them die, Alfred. I did. Everything dies. I know I never used to say these things to you. Just Glory to the Ashfords!' and things like that. But she's dead. Start again! I realise now what we should have done, and I will not let you fade away like this. Your whole life is ahead of you, don't let Veronica steal your freedom. She'll use you as the public face for her actions; she'll let you take any blame. Let her stay dead, brother. You deserve a decent life. Don't be fazed by our history, because history belongs in the past.

"I'm not sure I understand you, Alexia. But I feel better knowing you are by my side. I grew weary of being alone."

You were never alone, Alfred. You had me, you had Hunk, and you had Steve. Don't waste this opportunity to have the life you deserve. If you bring Veronica back to life history will repeat itself. Like an everlasting loop. From Veronica to you, eventually. But you will be bypassed and the legacy will be passed on to her. It is an injustice I would rather not see you suffer.

Alfred sighed miserably, torn between his honoured ancestor and his sister. "I know Alexia, I know. It's just that I can't cope. Everything is going wrong for me and for the Ashfords and there is nothing I can do about it. There are rival companies out for my blood, and Umbrella only sends one man to my aid. The competition is fierce, and the money's running out. I don't know what to do so I'm going to take the easy way out. The cowards way. Because that's what I am, Alexia."

Alexia did not reply to his confession, so Alfred hurried down the final steps and reached the basement. It was dark, and impossible to see anything more than a few feet away, but the open coffin on the other side of the basement glowed with some sort of iridescent light. "Veronica" he breathed, his body filled with an untouchable fear.

As he drew closer he could make out the outline of her silent body, the chalk white of her face. Her mouth was turned upwards into a triumphant smile, her elegant eyebrows raised. Her eyes were closed, Alfred noticed with relief. He didn't think he could cope, if those intense blue eyes had been watching him. He reached out a trembling hand, and softly touched her skin, as if he could scarcely believe she was really there.

"Why are you still so beautiful, hundreds of years after your death? It is not possible, surely. But you always made a point of achieving the impossible. And those zombies you are so powerful, even in death. I could never aspire to even come close to your greatness."

He fumbled around in his pocket, and his shaking fingers eventually closed on the tiny glass tube of liquid. He watched it, as the strange liquid ran from one side of the tube to the other like a creature on the rampage, dying to be freed.

He pulled out the bung, and tugged carefully on Veronica's chin until her immaculate lips parted. He steadied his grip, and slowly raised the test-tube up to her mouth.

Footsteps on the stairs interrupted him. Heavy, mournful footsteps. Alfred panicked, and jerked his hand away from Veronica, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A figure appeared at the base of the steps, a black outline in the darkness.

It was Hunk. "Alfred. We've got a problem." He was carrying Steve's body in his arms. Alfred gasped, as he beheld the awful truth. Hunk continued in his monotonous tone; "Steve is dead."

---

Did you all recognise that song Veronica was singing? I love it. If you do recognise it, scribble it in a review and let me know. I'll oh, I don't know, give you a mention in my next chapter. (Um yay?) Unfortunately for some, not so unfortunately for others, it's still not over. I have one more chapter left up my sleeve, ready to whip out and surprise you. Or then again, maybe not. Big thanks to all my excellent reviewers – it takes a really good review to motivate me enough to put up another chapter. (No, that's not a bribe. Honest! Although laughs evilly if anyone's interested) So, in the next chapter, Alfred has a big decision to make, Steve and Alexia have a nasty argument (don't ask how I made that one possible) and I wind everything up. Kinda. Keep checking back for the next chapter, or review me to hurry me along a bit. What can I say – I'm lazy.

Thanks for reading!