Author's Note: Hello, my loves! Welcome back to Reincarnation! Hopefully, I'll be able to make weekly or biweekly updates for this. Hope you guys are ready for some angsty action, and a small surprise at the end.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything of Resident Evil. I only own my OC Ellie/Elena. All rights belong to Capcom.
Ethan couldn't believe what had transpired; he was at a loss of words as well as everyone else in the dining room. First, his superior asked his permission to date his baby sister. Then Mia bombarding on about how meaningless Ellie was, and now - this? What the hell did Ellie do? Snapping off, and somehow almost destroying half of the downstairs with a slam of her hands on the table.
He gazed down at the table, large shards of wood piercing up like spears. Windows and wine glasses cracked and shattered all over the floor, ornaments around the dining room and living room were knocked down, broken pieces lingered here and there. Dinnerware cast aside like garbage, broken and splintered in large pieces. His little sister … She did this? How? How could she have done so much damage with only a little amount of force. What was his sister? Was this what Mia was referring to, being unsafe? The "witchcraft" that she kept bringing up time and time again?
"See! I told you! I told you she was dangerous. Ethan!" Mia screeched as she marched over to the table and began cleaning up the mess.
"I-I-I'm sure there's an explanation -"
"What is there to explain, Ethan? She's not normal; she's a goddamn freak of nature! It's not normal for anyone to do this! How are you okay with this?!" Mia yelled, twisting around to face her husband as she gestured to the destruction around them.
"And how is it alright to talk about my sister like that? Seriously Mia! I thought things between you and Ellie were good." Ethan lashed back, not caring about the mess that was displayed before them.
"You don't know what your sister is, Ethan -"
"No, YOU don't know who she is. Ellie's done nothing but help us out ever since Rose was born, and you've been cruel to her since the beginning. Why?"
"She's going to keep Rose for herself, Ethan. I know it!"
"Oh, come on, Mia! Elie loves her to death! For Christ's sake, she would never do anything to harm our daughter. Why can't you see that?!" Ethan yelled at Mia, finally having enough of the cruel treatments his wife has committed against his sister.
"She's a menace, Ethan. A weapon that can't be controlled, and you and I both know she's jealous of me! She's always been jealous that I can have a child and she will never be able to have her own." Mia countered, tossing a rag onto the floor, and confronting her husband.
All the while the couple were arguing, Chris looked on as he tried to comprehend everything that went on. The woman he held strong feelings for, was a witch, and she probably didn't know the extent of her power. He heard everything Mia said about her; the woman was a monster, capable of harming anyone in their path. But Chris knew that wasn't true, he knew that Mia was only spewing out hateful words out of emotion. Whether it be from the postpartum or if the memories of Louisiana came back, he didn't know.
He distinctly remembered seeing the tears in Ellie's eyes, crystalline gems threatening to fall down her graceful features. She never meant for anyone to find out about her secret; a reason why she was so skittish on letting him into the home. Maybe this is why Ethan was so against letting him near his sister, knowing full well that she possessed a power inside her. Chris knew that Ethan wouldn't let her date, and maybe it was this reason.
Still, he had to see her. He had to know she was alright. Looking behind, he noticed that both Mia and Ethan were heavily engaged in their argument. He sighed through his nose, and silently began his search for Ellie. He suppressed his footsteps as he ventured out of the dining room, working his way through the living room while surveying the damage.
He traveled past the doorway and out to the entryway, noticing the impact from whatever Ellie unleashed. The mirror at the bottom of the staircase was cracked, spiderwebbed to the point that it was ready to shatter at the seam. Ascending the dark wooden stairs, Chris took measured steps up to the second floor. The wood creaked under his weight, but still had a strong hold.
Once he arrived at the second level, he quickly reached for his gun as he looked to his right before turning to his left. The cream walls almost gave off an alluring and serene feel to the upstairs, but he knew that appearances could be deceiving. He pointed his weapon at the closed door while cautiously making his way toward it. He placed one large hand on the solid wood, and gave it a firm push to only reveal an empty modern grey bathroom. Pristine tiled shower stall and sink, grey speckled tile decorated the whole bathroom.
He whipped around as he heard a noise come from behind him, a hushed series of cries could be heard. The Captain knew that Rosemary had to have been asleep, so the only other person who could make a noise was Ellie. He reserved his weapon, putting it back into his holster as he carefully made his way to the other side of the house.
Ellie sat curled up in her full sized bed, hands gripping the thick roots of her wavy hair. Her breathing stuttered in between shaky breaths, her body slightly rocking itself as a method of calming down. She couldn't believe she'd done that; all her life she had never once let her magic explode like that. She always kept a good grip of her emotions when she was around other people. She was careful, always, never letting her magic be combined with emotions. Why did she let this happen?
Mia had gone too far, and said things that Ellie never thought she would hear. She was despised, a freak in a family that would never accept her for who she was. And to think, all the things she did to help out were just a ploy, an excuse for Mia to think and spit out insults to her.
Ellie slowed her rocking, taking in deep breaths to slow down her heartbeat. She remembered the steps to ground herself. Mentally counting to four in her head, she breathed in through her nose long while taking in as much oxygen as her lungs could muster to hold. She held her breath while silently counting to eight; her lungs almost burning to release the stale oxygen in her chest. Slowly and calmly, Ellie exhaled all of the air in her chest as she felt the pressure dissipate.
She proceeded to repeat the process at least three more times - breathe in long for four, hold in for eight and breathe out for four. Slowly, the pressure inside her chest disappeared, making the young woman feel lighter and less claustrophobic in her mind. Opening her eyes, Ellie released her hands from their tight grip in her hair before looking up.
Her bedroom was a lot larger than she asked for; hardwood flooring, cream colored walls, a large heavy oak wardrobe on the far side next to the door. A massive bookcase made of solid oak stood proudly next to the wall on her left, the glass gleaming by the light fixture on the ceiling. A soft couch on the right side of the room, snug underneath the three windows. The bed was only full sized, but that was all she really needed. She was never one to ask for many frivolous items, in fact, she was quite content with whatever she held in her little collection. Clothes decorated the floor near the wardrobe; pants, sweaters, shirts haphazardly strewn in a poorly painted picture. Books stacked on top of one another near the desk, on the floor, anywhere that had space.
Ellie huffed a sigh from her lips, her fingers dancing around her bracelets on her left wrist. All three were mainly what are known as "chakra" bracelets, but she had waved them into her own unique way, finding many different crystals over the years. Each crystal meant something different to the mind, body and soul. Malachite for Earth, Lapis Lazuli for Water, Mica for Air, Carnelian for Fire, and Clear Quartz for Aether. The main five crystals she had found in an old chest left by a relative many moons ago. Over the years, she also obtained a blue opal, moonstone, rose quartz, onyx, jasper, tiger's eye and black obsidian. Weaving and lacing the crystals together into an intricate triad of bracelets, Ellie felt herself become more at peace with herself and her crystals.
She uncurled herself from her tight embrace, letting her legs loose from being bunched up. She let them hang off the edge of the bed, looking around the too spacious bedroom she preoccupied in. Maybe Mia was right; maybe she was nothing more than a goddamn freak of nature. She didn't belong here, feeling like an outcast since the day she walked inside the home. Nothing against her brother, but he had almost no spine when it came to defending her. Ellie always felt like she had to be the one to hold her own against anything and everything these last few weeks.
"I don't know what to do. Mia is right, I don't belong here. Maybe I should leave, find my own path. But where do I go from here?" Ellie muttered to herself as she ruffled her hair with her hand, long locks of chestnut hair bouncing around her face. She felt a deep sadness seep into her bones, knowing that she would have to make a choice. Stay in a home where she was unwelcomed, verbally abused, and treated like a slave. Or leave and go on an adventure that she always dreamed of - exploring the other countries of Eastern Europe. She loved her brother, truly she did, but she would not live in an unhappy home that had little love and affection for her.
Little did Ellie know that she wasn't truly alone. An old box television sat in the corner of the room, its greyish metallic surface almost glistening in the dimly lit room; knobs on the right side, and an antenna sat above its roof. She had that old television for many years, finding it in a heap of scrape from a local yard sale a few months back. It held more than just its antique look to it; Ellie felt that this may have some secrets of its own. Oh, how little she knew of its true intentions.
The room was dreary, a chill swept through the bleak surroundings of the basement. Basement, dungeon, whatever it was called. The dampness made the secret room more like a prison, cells made out of wrought iron and polymer compound. Long tables filled with all sorts of unusual items - books, glass jars filled with mold, bones, designs and blueprints of all sorts of macabre pictures. Almost as if they were some kind of surgical layouts from a horror film. But it was nothing compared to what had happened.
A little boy, no more than the age of ten, sat in one of the large cell-like cages. Curled up with his arms wrapped around his knees, looking terrified and timidly around. A mop of thick, wavy black hair, slightly cracked glasses, ragged and torn pants and shirt, barefoot and malnourished, the boy felt nothing but pain and sorrow. He knew what was coming, he knew that she would come and do it again. He hated it; he hated being here in this prison. The pain in his chest ached, burned almost as if he ate a bowl of liquid fire. His body felt as if he ate something made out of rotten meat, a sickly feeling of wiggling could be felt all inside his body. The boy felt itchy, face covered in grime, tears and blood, fresh wounds covering his face and parts of his body like badges from a war.
"Let me out. I wanna go outside." The boy pitifully pleaded, looking ahead at the wall across from him, making sure he didn't see her on the other side of the bars.
"You know you can't go out yet, Karl. We still have much to learn." The mysterious woman answered, sitting in front of the bars on a chair with a clipboard and pen in hand.
"I don't want to. I wanna see my friend."
"You will see her soon, once you complete your lessons for the day."
"You said that yesterday. You promised me I could see my friend."
"You can't see her yet, my son."
"I'M NOT YOUR SON! LET ME OUT!" The boy yelled as loud as his lungs could muster, the bars of his cell rattling with such force that they threatened to snap in half.
He jerked up from his slouched position on his desk, scraps of metal, gears, papers and tools scattered and flew off and around his person. Breathing heavily and in shuddering gasps, the Lord of Steel looked around his mess of a workstation. Rubbing his large hand over his eyes, the most dangerous lord hated it when he fell asleep. Lord Heisenberg - the most dangerous of the Four Lords of this backwatered village, hated sleeping. He knew that the nightmares plagued his mind like an endless sea of tormented images, a purgatory for the most cruel and demented demons to thrive in.
He picked up his sunglasses, covering his sensitive hazelish green irises as he gauged around his work station. A mess it was - clutter of blueprints, designs of his next projects, piles of scrap metal laid about in their destructive wake. Gears, bolts, screws, small pieces of chains, shrapnel of jagged metal littered the floor, a life of an engineer. Well, a mad Frankenstein version of an engineer that even the most well renowned scientists could only dream of in their most creative fantasies and nightmares. The poorly lit room was more than enough for Heisenberg to work in, he preferred the nocturnal over anything else.
A quiet man he was, but a sturdy man nonetheless. A mass of grey waves for his hair, stopping at past his jawline, strands brushing his tanned cheeks. Comforting a green tank top, dark brown pants that had more spills of grease and motor oil than the average mechanic could bet on; leather boots that had cracks and splits from years of wear and tear. A large statue of his build, powerfully built arms and chest, a little bit of a muffin top from his waistline of his pants. He wasn't as thin as he was when he was a child. Years of working in the factory as well as his creations made him more toned in his physique than he could remember. Not in a bodybuilder form, but a more working man than the average villager's body physique.
The Lord swept his hair in both hands, half up and half down before he tied his hair up. Not a full ponytail but an in between style, his sunglasses perched up on his nose almost shielding his eyes from the softest light his factory could muster.
"Goddamn it, can't get shit done if I'm sleepin'." Heisenberg grumbled, producing a Cuban cigar from his front pocket before lighting it up. He breathed in the addicting nicotine he thrived on for decades, letting the smoke flow through his chest in a blooming warmth before exhaling in a loud huff.
He sighed before turning to work on his blueprints, his television on his left side near the corner of his workstation. He would get out of this godforsaken village, no matter the cost. He would get out if it's the last thing he would do. Grabbing a tall glass of whiskey in front of him, he swallowed down a large swig of the burning liquor before setting the glass back down next to his lamp.
The old rustic television began making its static whitenoise, making the engineer bite a growl in his throat. He clenched his hands, not wanting to waste time with dense family members, simpleminded villagers to offer him anything or mindless lycans looking for a scrap of meat to eat.
"I don't have time for this shit!" Heisenberg snarled, slamming his hand down on the television next to him before going back to his work.
The static ceased to make noise, but the man failed to see what the television procured for him to see with his eyes, and only for his eyes. It was a bedroom, from where unknown, but a beautiful bedroom made of creamed walls, heavily built oaken furniture to house anyone's greatest desires. But the most intriguing of the images on the screen was the most beautiful woman anyone could ever lay their eyes on - slender body, long chestnut hair, stunning light green eyes and the most saddest expression her face could grace.
The sound of light crying could be heard through the television's speakers, forcing the engineer to stop his work and turn to face the monitor of the old foreign device he scraped up decades ago.
"For fuck's sake, whatever it is, I ain't -"
"I'm sorry. I can't help what I am. I don't know where to go, or where I could go to be myself. I want someone to love me for me." The young woman said, almost as if she heard him speak.
Heisenberg stopped spouting whatever insults his tongue could muster, falling silent as he gazed at the most beautiful woman his eyes laid on. It couldn't be her, could it? The long wavy hair, light beige skin, and her voice - his Elena?
"Elena . . . "
A/N: Gotta get you guys with a cliffhanger! Let me know what you think. Likes, comments, reviews and positive feedback are welcomed! I'll see you guys in the next chapter!