6:40 a.m.
Marigold leaned against the window in the larger STARS office. The noise downstairs had died down, and the sound of lockers being opened and shut around the building had gone away. The shift change had finished up, and not a moment too soon.
Ada had pointed out the fire escape leading from that window to the alley. A fence blocked the way to the next street over, but that was hardly a dead end. Besides, the fence was old, broken, and seemed to barely serve as a roadblock outside of optics. The chain link barely seemed attached on the far side. Ada was the more vulnerable target on the surface of things…except that Ada was comfortable with the terrain, and wasn't up against a ticking clock. "Your checkpoint, as you mentioned is four blocks past that fence, and you have a better chance of staying out of sight once you leave the station. I can take the back stairs here in a few more minutes."
Ada had then promptly left. Marigold had locked the small office behind her, stumbling out into the wider space. She still felt a bit lightheaded after pushing so hard for so long, but the feeling was fading. The tenor of the G virus below had lost its fever pitch. It hadn't gone anywhere.
That was the real trouble of being the only case for so long. Marigold had no real idea of why this had been so much easier on her body this time around, or if she had simply been this way the whole time. Would she mutate if she pushed too far? To some degree, she had already been changing internally.
What was it that Alexander had concluded after that 'little incident' back in 1972? Ah, yes: 'high responses activate dormant Sonnetroppe reservoirs, increasing aggression and abilities, while also accelerating biological cycling'. He had compared it to the rumoured effects of Toxoplasmosis gondii in humans; males became more aggressive, females more receptive.
It had all sounded like Freudian trash to Marigold, but it was as good an explanation as any. It was just as well that there only seemed to be one genius in the family per generation at most. Their egos would never sustain more than that. Maybe science had lost some of its Victorian hangover since she'd gone away, but she doubted it.
In that respect, Alexander had found her situation almost funny. "You were always rather scary, even if Father never really saw it," he'd joked when they were trying to unravel the unsettling new development. "So really, it's just enhancing what was already there."
The bruise on her neck, which refused to heal 'normally' had grown even more tender now than before. Increased aggression, indeed. Had he planned that? Had Wesker been two steps ahead the entire time?
Perhaps. But he hadn't anticipated what she had just done. Or at least, why. She was mostly certain Wesker wouldn't work it out without significant help.
There was a fifty-fifty chance that Ada would gloss over the details of what she had just done. Maybe better, now. Ada struck her as someone who knew the value of being owed a favor.
The uncertainty itself couldn't be helped. Ada was cautious and she seemed to have access to everyone. Having someone who was known to have a free hand gave them both plausible deniability. The less Wesker knew about her network, the better. That meant extreme caution in creating new connections.
Besides, infecting Ada would have been rude. Going after anyone who'd been thrown into this nightmare scenario from outside Umbrella felt like a bridge too far, now.
Marigold's rendezvous was set for seven. Outside the window, the sun began to rise.
Marigold eased the window open, letting the cool air fill the room. It had been a long night, and her day was only getting started.
Jill Valentine had lurked within the copse of trees near the station's entrance for a good fifteen, twenty minutes. Her source was to meet her around the corner from here once their shift ended.
That was, if they could get away unnoticed. People believed Irons. No- they had wanted to believe him, and we're clinging to that belief with everything they had in the face of the alternative slowly creeping up around them. Brad Vickers had confirmed they had told the truth, but Brad Vickers had been told to shut the hell up if he knew what was good for him.
And now there had been all of this weird activity, starting early this morning. Military vehicles. CDC. RPD had been out all night responding to calls and cordoning off investigations. Had something else broken?
Something closer to home?
A woman with dark hair and wearing a trench coat appeared at the front door of the station. It took a moment for Jill to place her- one of the reporters who had been prodding Umbrella over the summer. The woman glanced over her shoulder and quickened her pace down towards the sidewalk. It seemed that Jill wasn't the only one taking advantage of the chaos to get some answers.
Jill crept forward from her spot in the park to get a better look at where the reporter was heading. The shift change had ended a little while ago. Had her contact had second thoughts? Brad might know, but she wouldn't be able to see him until much later in the day. She was tempted to follow, but…she had her own appointment to keep. This lead could be followed up on later.
Hopefully.
Movement from within a car parked across the alerted her to the real reason no one was coming out to her in the open. Two burly men in tailored suits, the sort meant to conceal a holster, emerged from a vehicle that seemed too small to contain their bulk. They'd been watching the station.
They must have spotted her in the trees and were now making their way over. Umbrella had hired thugs to follow and harass her for the last several days, trying to keep her pinned in place around her home. Apparently, they were beginning to lose patience with her.
Or, Umbrella was letting them off their leashes at last. One of them, wearing sunglasses and a bolo tie, began to reach inside his jacket as he stalked over.
Jill, who had turned in her weapon and didn't dare carry her personal piece out in the open quite yet, straightened from her slight crouch, turned tail and began to walk quickly towards the alley behind her.
Running would trigger these two goons to do something drastic. The alley at least provided a narrow chute that would make it difficult to flank her, and some cover by the dumpster. There was also the fence - flimsy enough that someone her size could push through the gap without much delay. She didn't think they would open fire here, but…Irons had covered for worse.
She wasn't armed. There was a knife in her boot, but mercs -and these two definitely qualified - were unpredictable. The knife would require her to get in much too close for it to mean much in a fight.
Behind her, one of the men swore, and the sound of his pounding footsteps reached her. Halfway to the mouth of the alley, Jill broke into a flat run.
If she made it, it would be so close. In some ways, it was worse than the mansion. Zombies didn't have guns. They didn't do well with tactics. Their goals were predictable. And they were slow. These two were nearly breathing down her neck when Jill hit the ancient chainlink, pushing the flap back and ducking under. Looking back would cost precious seconds.
All of Jill's focus had been channeled into fleeing, but the experience at the mansion had taught her to listen for danger like nothing else ever could have. It had cost her more than a few nights' sleep over the last month or so. When a dull clang rang out behind them, Jill whipped around, reaching for her gun automatically before remembering how vulnerable she was.
The two thugs were slower to react, but they did pause their attempt to climb up over the fence. They saw Jill freeze in place, clutching at a phantom sidearm. Her eyes were wide.
She wasn't looking at them.
The figure that had landed on the lid of the dumpster was slight, a woman around Rebecca's age. She had landed on her feet, and balanced on the balls of her feet in a crouch that slowly unfurled itself. The newcomer radiated a sense of coiled energy, like a cat watching some particularly slow, stupid mice.
Something in the stance, in that sound which had come when she'd landed up there…it reminded Jill of the hunters at the mansion. All too much of them, somehow. She took a step backward.
The alley itself was still deep in shadow. The season had progressed to the point where the sunrise came slower and slower each day. The faint light from the street was to the woman's back, obscuring her face in the darkness. The only clear detail was a strangely reflective sheen in the eyes, like those of a cat.
The moment stretched out between the four of them. One of the thugs, deeply devoid of anything resembling sense - the partner must have done all of the actual thinking between them - stepped towards the new arrival. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, but this isn't the day to be Batman, lady." He started to draw his weapon, pulling himself up to full height.
The other thug, looking toward Jill, noted her stunned reaction. "Friend of yours?" He growled and began to shove his bulk through the little gap in the fence. He didn't see the woman behind them hop down and casually approach his partner.
Didn't see her snatch the gun out of his hand like a cheap toy.
But Jill did.
Jill must have made a noise. She must have started backing away. She must have done something because the thug attempting to pursue her through the fence had finally realized that he was no longer the most dangerous thing in this alley. He turned just quickly enough to see his partner slammed into the brick wall like a rag doll. He landed on his back, face smashed and broken.
Jill's paralysis broke. She turned to run again when the woman called out. "Just a moment, please." The remaining thug realized his mistake too late, and tried to push through the gap again - now to escape this demented woman who had materialized out of nowhere. Hands caught him by the collar, hauling him back out.
The man - a good eight inches and 100 pounds larger than this new arrival - was spun around, obscuring Jill's view. Two muffled thudding sounds came, before his hands shot up with a choking sound and fell to his knees before slumping over to his side.
The woman looked up at Jill, seeming unruffled by the show of violence she had just put on. Looking down, then behind her to the street, she made a distressed sound before grabbing the second man - and yep, that was a broken jaw, possibly combined with a probable cracked windpipe- dragging him over to his partner. Side by side, they were now hidden from the street by the large dumpster container. At least until they woke up.
If they woke up.
"Are they dead?" Jill asked, her voice a flat whisper.
The woman shook her head. "Not yet," she replied. "Beyond that, it's hard to say. The fighting thing's always been a bit academic in the past." Her soft British accent tugged at Jill's memory. The lightness of her tone clashed badly with the abrupt violence of the situation.
Jill's confusion and quiet fear must have been obvious because the woman gave her a wan smile when she looked up. "I need to go that way," she said, pointing past Jill, "So I would appreciate it if you didn't scream. Or panic. I'm not here to hurt you. Thank you for seeing Kate out of the city, by the way, I couldn't be sure she would ask for help." She stepped forward and ducked through the gap, hands raised to her shoulders as she gave Jill a wide berth. "I was just passing through here."
Jill blinked, then found her tongue. "Rebecca said you were getting out of town."
The woman grimaced. Closer up, she looked more like a harried white-collar flunkie than anything, like an intern who had been sent out with impossibly precise coffee orders to fill for her manager. Her eyes, though…her eyes were hard, like chips of bloodshot ice boring a hole through Jill.
"It's all going to hell here, so I came back on an errand, while there was still a window to do it." The woman continued to circle around until she had placed the exit firmly at her back. She looked uncertain, almost guilty, at finding herself there.
"An errand," Jill repeated. The shock was beginning to wear off. "They've been sending them to watch my apartment for the last several days now. Umbrella knows I'm looking for proof." She jerked her head back at the two men lying propped up in a row by the alley wall.
The woman - Marigold, that was her name - stared back at her. "Proof," she said. "Haven't you seen all of the government agents swarming the place? The military? You think having proof is going to matter if you're still here in a few days?"
Jill paled. "The attacks."
"It's worse than that. It turns out that scientists are very, very good at killing everyone out of spite when the company tries to take away their toys and put them on a timeout." The woman sighed, then reached for her bag. Jill tensed, and the woman stilled. The moment passed, and she continued. "Think about it. They may already be setting up a dead zone around the town." She seemed to be slowly backing away, getting ready to take off.
"Why..why are you helping us?" Jill called after her. The woman seemed to freeze at the question. Swallowed. Finally, "I'm not safe to be around normal people - they, you, don't deserve what could happen. I'm not going back to Umbrella." She made a face, as if that were something she shouldn't have even had to state. "They're still looking for me out there, I'm told. That leaves very limited choices right now. If they find out I'm here, I'll likely step right into another trap."
She - Marigold - seemed to be flipping through a small stack of folders in her bag, pulling out two. "These won't be missed where I'm headed, but if it helps speed things up, take it." She tossed them to the ground between them. "Something particularly bad was released yesterday. It's cascading. If you're to dig something up, do it fast - your old boss is actively botching the evacuation on Umbrella orders."
Jill groaned. "Of course they are. At least we actually know the people in charge are dirtbags this time." She looked at Marigold speculatively. It was odd to think that they had both been utterly fucked over by the same person almost two decades apart. Bookends of a busy backstabbing career. Well, good riddance. The fact that he wasn't around to hurt them further was one of the very few good things to come out of the horrors of that summer.
Marigold, for her part, grimaced again. The woman - the creature - that had casually dispatched the two linebackers with her bare hands - was uncomfortable. She was clearly eager to get away. "Don't follow me." She hesitated. Then, "good luck." With that, she whirled on her heel and began to sprint towards the far end of the alley to the next street over. She reached the corner, turned left, and was gone.
Jill stared after her until one of the thugs behind her gave a weak moan. She startled at the sound, then jogged forward towards the folders, stamped with the RPD logo. Jill looked up - the STARS office had a slightly open window at the fire escape. Marigold had vaulted over the railing to land below, a good twenty feet. But not before slipping into the RPD to grab…Jill picked up the file to flip over the cover.
These were documents…names. Umbrella installations. The hospital was a major target, but there were other senior researchers named therein. These were people Irons was meant to keep tabs on for the company. On behalf of the company. Probably more than a few names on this list had mysteriously disappeared over the years.
Jill snapped the folder shut, and began to walk out at a fast, steady pace. She couldn't afford to be seen here, especially with two Umbrella mercs who'd been 'mysteriously' beaten half to death.
She still had so much work to do.