"Ohh..." Cassandra Spencer's eyelids fluttered weakly. There were
beautiful colours spinning wildly inside her skull, scarlet and gold and
violet all flashing together furiously. There was also an odd drumbeat of a
song going on inside her head. But when the real world came rushing in, the
song faded and the colours vanished.
"Cassandra?! CASSANDRA!" Catherine sounded hysterical.
"I don't bloody want to go to school." the younger girl muttered. "We're not *doing* anything today anyways."
"School?" Hojo asked. "What school."
Hojo? The world and reality snapped back into focus and Cassandra sat up.
"Where's Cora?! Where's Alexia? I need to find them. I need to..." she tried to sit up, but Catherine was suddenly towering over her.
"No."
"No?!"
"Yes. I said no. You need rest. Who will help me out in the labs if you die."
"I'll scream!"
"I'll have Hojo gag you!" she threatened. "You - are - my - younger - sister. Rest."
Pale blue eyes met dark blue in a defiant glare, then finally, Cassandra settled back down, glaring.
"Fine." she said. "I'll rest." as though it had been her decision. Catherine gave a satisfied nod.
"I'm going to try to find some form of communication. You sit tight."
*
"Dr. Birkin, this is a most unexpected turn of events. Perhaps you'd care to explain your current situation?"
Cora let out a whimper, tried to push herself to her hands and knees, and faltered , falling back into a crumpled heap. No one cared. The Redfields were taking full advantage of the appearance of the scrawny scientist who was holding Wesker's attention, edging towards the ventelation duct.
"Ah, well, you see... um..." William responded, shuffling slightly. Wesker had always gotten on his nerves when he pulled his poker face, and this was no exception.
/He used to know when employees were lying to him. He probably sees right through me./
"And I could ask how you are doing yourself? I hope the virus I made is working out for you.."
If that bothered Albert any, he did not show it. Birkin wondered how the man could stay so cool and self-posessed.
Suddenly, Chris moved swiftly, tearing the duct cover off and moving inside the vents. His sister followed just as smoothly.
"Goddamnit!" cursed Birkin. His revenge - gone! Wesker did not seem surprised.
Instead, his comrade merely raised an eyebrow and looked smug.
"We have to catch them!" maybe they were on the same side, if only until their agendas went different ways.
"You go ahead. I'd like to have a little... fun." Wesker's head tilted to look at the latin girl laying on the ground.
Birkin nodded and ran off, labcoat flapping wildly behind him.
*
"Please ... no." Cora groaned weakly as she felt herself be hefted up. No matter how badly her body ached, she had still heard every word of the previous conversation. And despite the fact that she was no super genius like Birkin was, she understood that Wesker's fun wouldn't be a very good game for her.
"Broken already?" Wesker mused. She winced - the smell of his virus, the pugnent smell, filled her nostrils. The only thing that made his different than that of the zombies was a sour undertone, like spoiled milk. She screwed her eyes shut like a child.
He smiled as he seized her arm, twisting it back.
/It's going to break. He's going to break my limbs. No! No!/
He kept on twisting it back. But still, the bone had not broke. She cautiously opened one eye, then stared. Her arm was twisted in a way that human arms were never meant to bend, a sick parody of the human anatomy. But there was no pain. Not even a twinge of discomfort.
The only sign of surprise that Wesker gave was that his gaze lingered on the arm for far too long. He let go of her - and his boot took her in the gut. If she had not already vomited, she might have then. Stars danced before her vision, air was driven out of her lungs, and she was on her back.
"Oh... god..." she gasped. A God that had probably forsaken her. The old Bible verse. 'The Lord is my sheperd, I shall not want.' Well, there was little chance of her going to Heaven. The only solution to that problem was to stay alive.
Before the boot could come crashing down on her ribcage, Cora rolled to the side and sprang to her feet. It shouldn't have been possible for her to move so fluidly in her weakened state, but she did.
"What runs through your veins, Miss Merandez?" He caught the fist hurtling towards his shortribs easily. The words were civil, and the tone was civil. "What virus runs in you?"
She went cold with fear. He knew. He knew. He knew and he was going to kill her. She was very close to going back into hysteria, to breaking into an insane cackle or bursting into tears again. But if she lost her mind, then she would most certainly die.
Desperation gave her the edge that she needed to tear away from his iron grip, to turn around and attempt to run. She knew it was futile, but she knew nothing else to do.
She ran down the hall without interruption. For a moment, there was only fear. Then hope.
/I'm going to live. He's letting me go. He knows I'm not worth it. Yes! Yes!/
She skidded to a stop. Albert Wesker was lounging against the doors she had been racing for, watching her. He was amused.
/He's playing with me. Cat and mouse./
Cora turned to Wesker.
"I don't feel like playing games with you." she told him. "Just kill me now, then." She could feel the daggers against her arms quite clearly. She could get close to him, and then stab him in the heart. Not even he could survive that.
"Miss Merandez, why should I oblige you in such a request when it would be infinately more fun to see you suffer?"
Cora broke into a cold sweat. He meant that. And this time, she would be very lucky to get away. Her knees trembled, but still, she ran forward, daggers sliding into her hands. The steel scored a long line down his arm, blood welling up in the long cut. He did not show any sign of pain, merely hit her again. This time, much harder.
The last thing she heard was the crackling of the radio at his waist, then everything went black.
"Cassandra?! CASSANDRA!" Catherine sounded hysterical.
"I don't bloody want to go to school." the younger girl muttered. "We're not *doing* anything today anyways."
"School?" Hojo asked. "What school."
Hojo? The world and reality snapped back into focus and Cassandra sat up.
"Where's Cora?! Where's Alexia? I need to find them. I need to..." she tried to sit up, but Catherine was suddenly towering over her.
"No."
"No?!"
"Yes. I said no. You need rest. Who will help me out in the labs if you die."
"I'll scream!"
"I'll have Hojo gag you!" she threatened. "You - are - my - younger - sister. Rest."
Pale blue eyes met dark blue in a defiant glare, then finally, Cassandra settled back down, glaring.
"Fine." she said. "I'll rest." as though it had been her decision. Catherine gave a satisfied nod.
"I'm going to try to find some form of communication. You sit tight."
*
"Dr. Birkin, this is a most unexpected turn of events. Perhaps you'd care to explain your current situation?"
Cora let out a whimper, tried to push herself to her hands and knees, and faltered , falling back into a crumpled heap. No one cared. The Redfields were taking full advantage of the appearance of the scrawny scientist who was holding Wesker's attention, edging towards the ventelation duct.
"Ah, well, you see... um..." William responded, shuffling slightly. Wesker had always gotten on his nerves when he pulled his poker face, and this was no exception.
/He used to know when employees were lying to him. He probably sees right through me./
"And I could ask how you are doing yourself? I hope the virus I made is working out for you.."
If that bothered Albert any, he did not show it. Birkin wondered how the man could stay so cool and self-posessed.
Suddenly, Chris moved swiftly, tearing the duct cover off and moving inside the vents. His sister followed just as smoothly.
"Goddamnit!" cursed Birkin. His revenge - gone! Wesker did not seem surprised.
Instead, his comrade merely raised an eyebrow and looked smug.
"We have to catch them!" maybe they were on the same side, if only until their agendas went different ways.
"You go ahead. I'd like to have a little... fun." Wesker's head tilted to look at the latin girl laying on the ground.
Birkin nodded and ran off, labcoat flapping wildly behind him.
*
"Please ... no." Cora groaned weakly as she felt herself be hefted up. No matter how badly her body ached, she had still heard every word of the previous conversation. And despite the fact that she was no super genius like Birkin was, she understood that Wesker's fun wouldn't be a very good game for her.
"Broken already?" Wesker mused. She winced - the smell of his virus, the pugnent smell, filled her nostrils. The only thing that made his different than that of the zombies was a sour undertone, like spoiled milk. She screwed her eyes shut like a child.
He smiled as he seized her arm, twisting it back.
/It's going to break. He's going to break my limbs. No! No!/
He kept on twisting it back. But still, the bone had not broke. She cautiously opened one eye, then stared. Her arm was twisted in a way that human arms were never meant to bend, a sick parody of the human anatomy. But there was no pain. Not even a twinge of discomfort.
The only sign of surprise that Wesker gave was that his gaze lingered on the arm for far too long. He let go of her - and his boot took her in the gut. If she had not already vomited, she might have then. Stars danced before her vision, air was driven out of her lungs, and she was on her back.
"Oh... god..." she gasped. A God that had probably forsaken her. The old Bible verse. 'The Lord is my sheperd, I shall not want.' Well, there was little chance of her going to Heaven. The only solution to that problem was to stay alive.
Before the boot could come crashing down on her ribcage, Cora rolled to the side and sprang to her feet. It shouldn't have been possible for her to move so fluidly in her weakened state, but she did.
"What runs through your veins, Miss Merandez?" He caught the fist hurtling towards his shortribs easily. The words were civil, and the tone was civil. "What virus runs in you?"
She went cold with fear. He knew. He knew. He knew and he was going to kill her. She was very close to going back into hysteria, to breaking into an insane cackle or bursting into tears again. But if she lost her mind, then she would most certainly die.
Desperation gave her the edge that she needed to tear away from his iron grip, to turn around and attempt to run. She knew it was futile, but she knew nothing else to do.
She ran down the hall without interruption. For a moment, there was only fear. Then hope.
/I'm going to live. He's letting me go. He knows I'm not worth it. Yes! Yes!/
She skidded to a stop. Albert Wesker was lounging against the doors she had been racing for, watching her. He was amused.
/He's playing with me. Cat and mouse./
Cora turned to Wesker.
"I don't feel like playing games with you." she told him. "Just kill me now, then." She could feel the daggers against her arms quite clearly. She could get close to him, and then stab him in the heart. Not even he could survive that.
"Miss Merandez, why should I oblige you in such a request when it would be infinately more fun to see you suffer?"
Cora broke into a cold sweat. He meant that. And this time, she would be very lucky to get away. Her knees trembled, but still, she ran forward, daggers sliding into her hands. The steel scored a long line down his arm, blood welling up in the long cut. He did not show any sign of pain, merely hit her again. This time, much harder.
The last thing she heard was the crackling of the radio at his waist, then everything went black.