Night fell, casting shadows everywhere and making Cora have to move closer
to Cobra and Alanna. A guard was casting a wary eye on the three, and not
for the first time, Cora considered stabbing him in the gut.
/Oh he wouldn't look so smug with a knife in his gut, oh no he wouldn't./ Cora shook her head as if to chase off the thought. /No! I'm not like that!/
"Stay, Cora." Cobra said.
/Am I that obvious? And I'm not a dog!/ Cora shot a cold glare at her ally. /Besides. I'm not that dumb."
"So will you help Gabe save us?" Alanna asked quietly.
"Who's Gabe?" Cobra's face was blank.
"Gabriel Turnbull." Cora explained. Alanna gave a smug nod, looking like a Queen, even in her sooty, muddy rags. "He's her brother."
"Look, guys - we need to leave, soon. But -" before Cobra could finish the sentence, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. The hand belonged to Albert Wesker.
"Cobra. Turnbull. Merandez." he said civilly.
"Wesker." Cobra said, just as cooly. Cora had to admire his calm. As much as she managed to keep the fear off of her face, fresh sweat had popped out upon her forehead and she was gripping her hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. At least she was not doing as bad as Alanna, who was gripping the upper arm of Cora as if she was afraid that without that Wesker would sweep her off somewhere. Well, he might.
"I have good news for you." Wesker said.
"Good news? From you?" Cora said harshly. "That's like hearing a zombie talk, or a Hunter sing."
Wesker slid an eye casually over Cora from behind his shades.
"You talk big, but I can see the scared little girl in your eyes." Wesker said. "Just don't piss yourself."
"You shut your mouth!" Cora snapped, but it was if Wesker had decided to fix his attention on something else. His eyes blazed through his sunglasses as he fixed that steady stare on Cobra. Cobra swallowed hard, but did not look away.
"Will you enjoy seeing your teammates be slaughtered?"
"Pardon me?"
"Delta Team are coming to rescue you."
"Oh thank God! Gabe sent help!" Alanna breathed.
"No. Gregory White did." Wesker said. Alanna gasped, turning beet red. Why? "It appears that he cares for you, Miss Turnbull?"
Alanna did not speak.
"Get to the point, Wesker. Why are you telling us this?"
"Because you are going to go to them and tell them how happy you are here. The other soldier agreed to it."
"Who?" demanded Cobra. Wesker gave a slight smile.
"Then again, they may shoot you on sight when they see the HCF clothing."
"And you don't care?!" Alanna squealed.
"My job isn't to care at the moment, it's to make them go away." Wesker said. The three stood at him, staring at him, and he smiled. He knew what was in their eyes - hatred. And frankly, he didn't care. Chances were they would die after their usefulness ran out. He wanted to make Merandez scream though. Her 'wit' got on his nerves more often than not. And she was stubborn. A little like Chris Redfield - his eyes glowed at that - only a girl. A scared, lonely girl.
Who had no right to not be wetting herself with fear right now.
"I'm going to die anyways." Merandez said with a slight smile, and then strode off.
Chaos, clad in black and armed to the teeth, fluidly invaded the camp. Shouts and screams blocked out the curse that came from Wesker's mouth. Merandez was out there somewhere. Her being killed was a pay cut waiting to happen. Cobra was tense, and the Turnbull girl was sobbing.
A redhead shot Wesker in the chest. Not in the heart, that would have killed him, but enough to kill another man. The woman with the flaming hair was staring at Wesker, dark green eyes widening.
"Hello." Wesker said. The redhead didn't respond, but her face twisted in fury and disbelief. She reached underneath her vest. Another gun? Wesker smiled. "I wouldn't bother. You'll just end up getting hurt."
She'd end up getting hurt anyways. But it was usually quite amusing to see the look of hope on their faces destroyed. Like they had a chance!
"You dirty HCF bastard." she snarled in a voice tinged with a French accent. Wesker cocked an eyebrow. She had courage, this one. And a filthy mouth. "You killed my husband."
"I kill a lot of men." Wesker shrugged, holding his ground.
"You will pay." the woman promised. "Irene Talbot ... no. You will die at the hands of Irene Dinzali, and you will beg me for forgiveness as you die." she gripped something underneath her vest.
"I hear that a lot, lady." yawned Wesker. "And so far, not even a scratch on me."
The woman drew a combat knife and leapt forward. Wesker didn't even bother to move as she slashed a horizontal line across his chest. Normally, Wesker would have killed the woman by now ... but the days of travel had bored him so badly that he welcomed the challenge of breaking this Irene Dinzali. Driving her insane? Killing her? A slight grin spread across his face.
"You stained my shirt." Wesker said to the surprised woman, in a crouch, ready to spring at her attacker's throat. He winced slightly at the muscle knitting itself back together, at the flesh scabbing and fading. It was disorienting, in a way.
"Fine, Mr. Wesker." Dinzali said mockingly, and this time it was a black grenade in her hand. "I will play this your way. Pas plus volonté que vous abattez! Matrice!" And with rage in her eyes and determination in her heart, she flung the explosive at the man.
Wesker blurred. Grenades could kill him, if he was careless. He preferred to turn a grenade on it's thrower. A nasty little surprise for them. Five. He caught the grenade. Four, he flicked his wrist and sent it sailing through the air. Three, it landed at the feet of the girl. Two, she sprang away. One.
Irene Dinzali's world turned to fire. She landed, bounced, then lay still. She spat a single curse in French, then lay still.
She was with her husband, and free of Umbrella. Her last thought was 'I wonder whether Gabriel will cry?'
/Oh he wouldn't look so smug with a knife in his gut, oh no he wouldn't./ Cora shook her head as if to chase off the thought. /No! I'm not like that!/
"Stay, Cora." Cobra said.
/Am I that obvious? And I'm not a dog!/ Cora shot a cold glare at her ally. /Besides. I'm not that dumb."
"So will you help Gabe save us?" Alanna asked quietly.
"Who's Gabe?" Cobra's face was blank.
"Gabriel Turnbull." Cora explained. Alanna gave a smug nod, looking like a Queen, even in her sooty, muddy rags. "He's her brother."
"Look, guys - we need to leave, soon. But -" before Cobra could finish the sentence, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. The hand belonged to Albert Wesker.
"Cobra. Turnbull. Merandez." he said civilly.
"Wesker." Cobra said, just as cooly. Cora had to admire his calm. As much as she managed to keep the fear off of her face, fresh sweat had popped out upon her forehead and she was gripping her hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. At least she was not doing as bad as Alanna, who was gripping the upper arm of Cora as if she was afraid that without that Wesker would sweep her off somewhere. Well, he might.
"I have good news for you." Wesker said.
"Good news? From you?" Cora said harshly. "That's like hearing a zombie talk, or a Hunter sing."
Wesker slid an eye casually over Cora from behind his shades.
"You talk big, but I can see the scared little girl in your eyes." Wesker said. "Just don't piss yourself."
"You shut your mouth!" Cora snapped, but it was if Wesker had decided to fix his attention on something else. His eyes blazed through his sunglasses as he fixed that steady stare on Cobra. Cobra swallowed hard, but did not look away.
"Will you enjoy seeing your teammates be slaughtered?"
"Pardon me?"
"Delta Team are coming to rescue you."
"Oh thank God! Gabe sent help!" Alanna breathed.
"No. Gregory White did." Wesker said. Alanna gasped, turning beet red. Why? "It appears that he cares for you, Miss Turnbull?"
Alanna did not speak.
"Get to the point, Wesker. Why are you telling us this?"
"Because you are going to go to them and tell them how happy you are here. The other soldier agreed to it."
"Who?" demanded Cobra. Wesker gave a slight smile.
"Then again, they may shoot you on sight when they see the HCF clothing."
"And you don't care?!" Alanna squealed.
"My job isn't to care at the moment, it's to make them go away." Wesker said. The three stood at him, staring at him, and he smiled. He knew what was in their eyes - hatred. And frankly, he didn't care. Chances were they would die after their usefulness ran out. He wanted to make Merandez scream though. Her 'wit' got on his nerves more often than not. And she was stubborn. A little like Chris Redfield - his eyes glowed at that - only a girl. A scared, lonely girl.
Who had no right to not be wetting herself with fear right now.
"I'm going to die anyways." Merandez said with a slight smile, and then strode off.
Chaos, clad in black and armed to the teeth, fluidly invaded the camp. Shouts and screams blocked out the curse that came from Wesker's mouth. Merandez was out there somewhere. Her being killed was a pay cut waiting to happen. Cobra was tense, and the Turnbull girl was sobbing.
A redhead shot Wesker in the chest. Not in the heart, that would have killed him, but enough to kill another man. The woman with the flaming hair was staring at Wesker, dark green eyes widening.
"Hello." Wesker said. The redhead didn't respond, but her face twisted in fury and disbelief. She reached underneath her vest. Another gun? Wesker smiled. "I wouldn't bother. You'll just end up getting hurt."
She'd end up getting hurt anyways. But it was usually quite amusing to see the look of hope on their faces destroyed. Like they had a chance!
"You dirty HCF bastard." she snarled in a voice tinged with a French accent. Wesker cocked an eyebrow. She had courage, this one. And a filthy mouth. "You killed my husband."
"I kill a lot of men." Wesker shrugged, holding his ground.
"You will pay." the woman promised. "Irene Talbot ... no. You will die at the hands of Irene Dinzali, and you will beg me for forgiveness as you die." she gripped something underneath her vest.
"I hear that a lot, lady." yawned Wesker. "And so far, not even a scratch on me."
The woman drew a combat knife and leapt forward. Wesker didn't even bother to move as she slashed a horizontal line across his chest. Normally, Wesker would have killed the woman by now ... but the days of travel had bored him so badly that he welcomed the challenge of breaking this Irene Dinzali. Driving her insane? Killing her? A slight grin spread across his face.
"You stained my shirt." Wesker said to the surprised woman, in a crouch, ready to spring at her attacker's throat. He winced slightly at the muscle knitting itself back together, at the flesh scabbing and fading. It was disorienting, in a way.
"Fine, Mr. Wesker." Dinzali said mockingly, and this time it was a black grenade in her hand. "I will play this your way. Pas plus volonté que vous abattez! Matrice!" And with rage in her eyes and determination in her heart, she flung the explosive at the man.
Wesker blurred. Grenades could kill him, if he was careless. He preferred to turn a grenade on it's thrower. A nasty little surprise for them. Five. He caught the grenade. Four, he flicked his wrist and sent it sailing through the air. Three, it landed at the feet of the girl. Two, she sprang away. One.
Irene Dinzali's world turned to fire. She landed, bounced, then lay still. She spat a single curse in French, then lay still.
She was with her husband, and free of Umbrella. Her last thought was 'I wonder whether Gabriel will cry?'
