An update! And maybe the story will have something that will make you groan, I know not. But the end approaches. We might have only one chapter after this to go, which I guess would make it neat as far as chapter numbers go.
Shady:: thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked the fiery bit, I spent a lot of time trying to write it, so it's really great that you picked it up! The Ashford fic I'm planning on doing might not seem like it's Ashford based when I begin... but... well, won't say no more! I couldn't resist but to put something about a slime monster in! I hope you don't mind too much!
Victoria: thanks for your support, Veronica! Don't worry, I'll use all my influence to get you an at least part time job here... once the muse gives Sych some good ideas....
Sych: I don't need a muse to give me ideas! I am imaginatively gifted!
Victoria: [withering look] look at the name you gave me! It's my cousin's spelt horribly wrong!
Zarbok:: thanks for reviewing! Unfortunately I'm only coming back for a few chapters... so I hope this one is just as good. Not as much action, sadly. In fact, I think hardly any action at all :O But who knows... there might be another story of mine up soon...
Unit Fox hound:: Lol, thinking as my very dodgy self, not in this story! If you're talking about unrestrained violence... again, maybe later. Thankies for the review!
Guest1234567890:: I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about, but SWEET! Thanks for your review!
Chapter 29
It should have been the end of the three virus-carriers. If a metal canister had been dropped, the resulting spark would have ignited on the tension to form an explosion bigger than Krakatoa.
The bullet did blow away some chunks of skin, but it wasn't enough to kill the vampress. Wesker cursed inwardly. Surely, I can't have missed from this distance!
"Seems we have some sort of stand-off," Victoria commented, digging into the open wound on her shoulder. Her strong fingernails went past the clotting blood and pulled out the bullet shells, letting them drop into her palm. They were warmed by her blood.
"So it would seem," Wesker replied through gritted teeth.
The two vampires regarded each other. Not a hint of emotion was given on either side. Standing, Victoria wondered if Jill would be an ally against Wesker, thinking to the strength of emotions in her memories. There was hate there, definitely, repulsion and betrayal.
Jill took some small, confident steps into the clearing. The expectant, charged silence continued.
Victoria stared at the glowing mineshaft, reminded of the night 150 years ago when she fell into a different one. The look on her brother's face... his tapered fingers reaching after her...
She shouldn't have been surprised when Jill barreled into her stomach. After all, the vampire knew for certain that Victoria was the queen of their particular virus, and you always go for the strongest first. Jill had seen an advantage, and went for it.
It was like being tackled in a heated rugby game. The older, more powerful vampress was effectively squashed by the other. Jill released her captive, and said her first words to them.
"Give me back my memories."
"What?" Victoria looked at her strangely, picking herself up, again.
"I can't remember anything clearly. It's all... disorientating. Like I have multiple personalities or something."
Can you steal memories?
"You said before that you had memories from us, from me," Jill continued in a low hiss. "I want mine back, so I know who I am."
Victoria took a sweeping glance of the clearing, taking in Wesker's nonchalant lean against a tree. She could tell all his wounds were healed already. If the fighting began again, she was back to square one. His glowing eyes were utterly unreadable.
Well, might as well try to make her remember. Victoria was loathe to close her eyes, and leave herself open to take, so instead she stared into the leafy treetops, focusing on both the woman before her and the memories she had accessed before. She doubted it would work, but maybe if she tried hard enough, the other vampire would be tricked into thinking it had worked and remembering on her own accord.
Like voodoo... or reverse-psychology... or something like that.
She lived through every minute of Jill Valentine's life in a high-speed moment, standing there at night gazing into the leaves. She sensed rather than saw the first day at school, the first joke, terror and happiness and despair.
Jill was staring into the sky. She thought she felt something stirring, a dawning recognition. She gazed briefly at the face of the girl, as poker as Wesker's. Perhaps it was Wesker who helped her remember, or perhaps a transfer of memories did occur, or maybe it was all in her mind to begin with, but parts of her began to sweep back.
The troubled voice that had grown fainter began to override the beast. And in one moment of dubious clarity, Jill knew she had to find her friends. If they were stuck in the flames, she would get them out. They would need her, but more than that, he would expect her to.
A sharp push sent Victoria to the ground again, and Jill ran off into the night.
Wesker didn't bother to try to chase her, though he knew he'd probably regret it later. He and his enemy both felt somehow linked by the experience, even if she was a pompous, malicious eternally-sixteen hussy.
The thoroughly beaten-up and still bleeding Victoria put on her most winning smile and looked up at him. "Can we have a truce?"
----
Claire stumbled in her brother's wake. The smell of the sewers had no choking affect on her anymore. The smoke, however, did. But here, they were far away from the fire, separated by a river of excretion.
Almost ironic. Or at least symbolic.
The torch light stayed steady. Barry, aching as any of them, held it confidently. Claire marveled at how he had shrugged off his injuries except for a slight grimace every so often. It was like he was the world's most stereo-typical butch male, nothing could slow him up or hurt him for long. Barry was indeed a caring grizzly bear.
Out of the corner of her eye, glinting in the torchlight, there was something white.
"Chris, look!" she pointed to the grimy wall.
Cutting through the moss and dirt that grew on it, there was a solid line of white topped with a hastily drawn triangle.
"It's one of Rosanna's arrows," her brother hissed.
They called the other two. Rebecca's eyes shined with optimism, Barry's with determination.
A couple of steps down the dank passageway in the opposite direction of the arrow and they found another.
"It can lead us back to the start," Rebecca hissed, voicing the thoughts on everyone's minds.
Like birds they flew through the sewers, following Rosanna's signs.
Each and every one of the four traced their earlier footsteps with more caution than you'd normally expect. But these were no dreamers; they knew nature didn't respect the laws of romance novels. They tip-toed silently through the passages, feeling waves of dread that their escape would be stolen from them, and expecting to feel teeth at their necks with an almost religious conviction.
"Wait," Barry said quietly.
"What?" Claire asked distractedly, convinced that an unmentionable slime creature was only inches behind her.
No sudden moves, that's the trick. Fast movement startles those slime monsters.
"What's our cover story?" Barry asked, "the embarrassingly good lie that avoids us from getting murder and arson put to our names?"
Chris sighed. "Let's stick to 'search gone horribly wrong', and give no more details. We got separated at some point, true, and we don't know exactly what happened to the others, also slightly true."
I wonder if the slime guy is more likely to go for Chris. I mean, look at him, he looks more appetizing than I do. Not that he's fat or anything, probably just oozes 'delicious' to sewer-dwelling radioactive balls of goo...
Barry nodded to show he understood, and then gestured with a wince to keep going. His shoulder was obviously beginning to stiffen up. The group walked side by side, as if doing emu parade.
Do slime monsters even exist?
It would be impossible to guess what they were thinking as the walked through those last terrifying steps to salvation. Except maybe for Claire, who may have been pondering the existence of slimy creatures with a taste for human flesh.
The grating, a prison-bar like covering to the jail of the sewers, stood like an old friend to welcome them back to the land of above ground. Each slipped back above ground, beginning to shake uncontrollably as the events of the night began to sink in.
"Look," Rebecca called softly.
Sitting on the edge of the pond, looking into its unfathomable depths, was the ragged form of Rosanna. When they called to her, her only reaction was to blink.
Gently and slowly, Claire put a hand on her shoulder. The younger girl turned her head with even more slowness. It was obvious from the wet eyes and glistening tear tracks on her dirty face that she was crying.
"Ian," she whispered weakly. It was all that was needed.
Claire, not usually noted for her tact or motherly tendencies, swept her into a hug. Rebecca joined on the other side, and soon Barry and Chris formed, a small huddle protecting a young girl from the inevitability of nature.
"I don't want to stay here," Rosanna said, more strongly. The group tensed slightly, still a strange growth on the side of the lake. "You mentioned something about a resistance against the viral companies responsible for things like this. I want to join."
"You're young, and it's dangerous work."
"This night was like twenty years for me. That would make me older than you."
"What about your family, and friends?" Barry asked. His voice was a soft bass that seemed like ripples in the dark night.
"My friends are basically all dead or missing, and after tonight no amount of family or love will be able to console me. I..." she searched for the words, wanting to sound wise and brave. "I need to fight the companies like Umbrella. For Celia, and little girls like her."
Chris knew the decision fell onto him. How could it not? Barry might be stronger and wiser, but Chris was the leader (even if it was delegated to him when the others were too lazy or the decision too tough). There were some substantial wrinkles to be smoothed out, but he thought that Rosanna should join them.
The main reason was, even if her grasp of language was not good enough to describe it exactly, Rosanna felt exactly the same way as he did. And after that, there was no going back. Normalcy didn't apply.
----
PLEASE REVIEW!!!! Should Victoria get her truce???? atmospheric music plays
Shady:: thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked the fiery bit, I spent a lot of time trying to write it, so it's really great that you picked it up! The Ashford fic I'm planning on doing might not seem like it's Ashford based when I begin... but... well, won't say no more! I couldn't resist but to put something about a slime monster in! I hope you don't mind too much!
Victoria: thanks for your support, Veronica! Don't worry, I'll use all my influence to get you an at least part time job here... once the muse gives Sych some good ideas....
Sych: I don't need a muse to give me ideas! I am imaginatively gifted!
Victoria: [withering look] look at the name you gave me! It's my cousin's spelt horribly wrong!
Zarbok:: thanks for reviewing! Unfortunately I'm only coming back for a few chapters... so I hope this one is just as good. Not as much action, sadly. In fact, I think hardly any action at all :O But who knows... there might be another story of mine up soon...
Unit Fox hound:: Lol, thinking as my very dodgy self, not in this story! If you're talking about unrestrained violence... again, maybe later. Thankies for the review!
Guest1234567890:: I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about, but SWEET! Thanks for your review!
Chapter 29
It should have been the end of the three virus-carriers. If a metal canister had been dropped, the resulting spark would have ignited on the tension to form an explosion bigger than Krakatoa.
The bullet did blow away some chunks of skin, but it wasn't enough to kill the vampress. Wesker cursed inwardly. Surely, I can't have missed from this distance!
"Seems we have some sort of stand-off," Victoria commented, digging into the open wound on her shoulder. Her strong fingernails went past the clotting blood and pulled out the bullet shells, letting them drop into her palm. They were warmed by her blood.
"So it would seem," Wesker replied through gritted teeth.
The two vampires regarded each other. Not a hint of emotion was given on either side. Standing, Victoria wondered if Jill would be an ally against Wesker, thinking to the strength of emotions in her memories. There was hate there, definitely, repulsion and betrayal.
Jill took some small, confident steps into the clearing. The expectant, charged silence continued.
Victoria stared at the glowing mineshaft, reminded of the night 150 years ago when she fell into a different one. The look on her brother's face... his tapered fingers reaching after her...
She shouldn't have been surprised when Jill barreled into her stomach. After all, the vampire knew for certain that Victoria was the queen of their particular virus, and you always go for the strongest first. Jill had seen an advantage, and went for it.
It was like being tackled in a heated rugby game. The older, more powerful vampress was effectively squashed by the other. Jill released her captive, and said her first words to them.
"Give me back my memories."
"What?" Victoria looked at her strangely, picking herself up, again.
"I can't remember anything clearly. It's all... disorientating. Like I have multiple personalities or something."
Can you steal memories?
"You said before that you had memories from us, from me," Jill continued in a low hiss. "I want mine back, so I know who I am."
Victoria took a sweeping glance of the clearing, taking in Wesker's nonchalant lean against a tree. She could tell all his wounds were healed already. If the fighting began again, she was back to square one. His glowing eyes were utterly unreadable.
Well, might as well try to make her remember. Victoria was loathe to close her eyes, and leave herself open to take, so instead she stared into the leafy treetops, focusing on both the woman before her and the memories she had accessed before. She doubted it would work, but maybe if she tried hard enough, the other vampire would be tricked into thinking it had worked and remembering on her own accord.
Like voodoo... or reverse-psychology... or something like that.
She lived through every minute of Jill Valentine's life in a high-speed moment, standing there at night gazing into the leaves. She sensed rather than saw the first day at school, the first joke, terror and happiness and despair.
Jill was staring into the sky. She thought she felt something stirring, a dawning recognition. She gazed briefly at the face of the girl, as poker as Wesker's. Perhaps it was Wesker who helped her remember, or perhaps a transfer of memories did occur, or maybe it was all in her mind to begin with, but parts of her began to sweep back.
The troubled voice that had grown fainter began to override the beast. And in one moment of dubious clarity, Jill knew she had to find her friends. If they were stuck in the flames, she would get them out. They would need her, but more than that, he would expect her to.
A sharp push sent Victoria to the ground again, and Jill ran off into the night.
Wesker didn't bother to try to chase her, though he knew he'd probably regret it later. He and his enemy both felt somehow linked by the experience, even if she was a pompous, malicious eternally-sixteen hussy.
The thoroughly beaten-up and still bleeding Victoria put on her most winning smile and looked up at him. "Can we have a truce?"
----
Claire stumbled in her brother's wake. The smell of the sewers had no choking affect on her anymore. The smoke, however, did. But here, they were far away from the fire, separated by a river of excretion.
Almost ironic. Or at least symbolic.
The torch light stayed steady. Barry, aching as any of them, held it confidently. Claire marveled at how he had shrugged off his injuries except for a slight grimace every so often. It was like he was the world's most stereo-typical butch male, nothing could slow him up or hurt him for long. Barry was indeed a caring grizzly bear.
Out of the corner of her eye, glinting in the torchlight, there was something white.
"Chris, look!" she pointed to the grimy wall.
Cutting through the moss and dirt that grew on it, there was a solid line of white topped with a hastily drawn triangle.
"It's one of Rosanna's arrows," her brother hissed.
They called the other two. Rebecca's eyes shined with optimism, Barry's with determination.
A couple of steps down the dank passageway in the opposite direction of the arrow and they found another.
"It can lead us back to the start," Rebecca hissed, voicing the thoughts on everyone's minds.
Like birds they flew through the sewers, following Rosanna's signs.
Each and every one of the four traced their earlier footsteps with more caution than you'd normally expect. But these were no dreamers; they knew nature didn't respect the laws of romance novels. They tip-toed silently through the passages, feeling waves of dread that their escape would be stolen from them, and expecting to feel teeth at their necks with an almost religious conviction.
"Wait," Barry said quietly.
"What?" Claire asked distractedly, convinced that an unmentionable slime creature was only inches behind her.
No sudden moves, that's the trick. Fast movement startles those slime monsters.
"What's our cover story?" Barry asked, "the embarrassingly good lie that avoids us from getting murder and arson put to our names?"
Chris sighed. "Let's stick to 'search gone horribly wrong', and give no more details. We got separated at some point, true, and we don't know exactly what happened to the others, also slightly true."
I wonder if the slime guy is more likely to go for Chris. I mean, look at him, he looks more appetizing than I do. Not that he's fat or anything, probably just oozes 'delicious' to sewer-dwelling radioactive balls of goo...
Barry nodded to show he understood, and then gestured with a wince to keep going. His shoulder was obviously beginning to stiffen up. The group walked side by side, as if doing emu parade.
Do slime monsters even exist?
It would be impossible to guess what they were thinking as the walked through those last terrifying steps to salvation. Except maybe for Claire, who may have been pondering the existence of slimy creatures with a taste for human flesh.
The grating, a prison-bar like covering to the jail of the sewers, stood like an old friend to welcome them back to the land of above ground. Each slipped back above ground, beginning to shake uncontrollably as the events of the night began to sink in.
"Look," Rebecca called softly.
Sitting on the edge of the pond, looking into its unfathomable depths, was the ragged form of Rosanna. When they called to her, her only reaction was to blink.
Gently and slowly, Claire put a hand on her shoulder. The younger girl turned her head with even more slowness. It was obvious from the wet eyes and glistening tear tracks on her dirty face that she was crying.
"Ian," she whispered weakly. It was all that was needed.
Claire, not usually noted for her tact or motherly tendencies, swept her into a hug. Rebecca joined on the other side, and soon Barry and Chris formed, a small huddle protecting a young girl from the inevitability of nature.
"I don't want to stay here," Rosanna said, more strongly. The group tensed slightly, still a strange growth on the side of the lake. "You mentioned something about a resistance against the viral companies responsible for things like this. I want to join."
"You're young, and it's dangerous work."
"This night was like twenty years for me. That would make me older than you."
"What about your family, and friends?" Barry asked. His voice was a soft bass that seemed like ripples in the dark night.
"My friends are basically all dead or missing, and after tonight no amount of family or love will be able to console me. I..." she searched for the words, wanting to sound wise and brave. "I need to fight the companies like Umbrella. For Celia, and little girls like her."
Chris knew the decision fell onto him. How could it not? Barry might be stronger and wiser, but Chris was the leader (even if it was delegated to him when the others were too lazy or the decision too tough). There were some substantial wrinkles to be smoothed out, but he thought that Rosanna should join them.
The main reason was, even if her grasp of language was not good enough to describe it exactly, Rosanna felt exactly the same way as he did. And after that, there was no going back. Normalcy didn't apply.
----
PLEASE REVIEW!!!! Should Victoria get her truce???? atmospheric music plays