Lotsa emotion this chapter. Lately I've been swearing more, but for the rating of this fic, as well as my own innocent mind, some of the more harsher cusswords are censored with the symbols this chapter. My face turned red as wine every time I tried to write them! Oh well, just use your imagination when you get to that part. 0.0
Chapter 13
The world froze. At least, Chris imagined it did. He stood unblinking; staring at the horrid spectacle in front of him with wide-eyed disbelief. None of this was really happening--he was going to wake up any minute and Crystal would be there, tugging at his arm and laughing, asking him to read her a story.
What a lie. This was happening. His mouth opened in a silent scream, no sound emanating from his dry throat.
His world had just been rocked. Make that broken. All by one person. All in less than two minutes.
Claire reached his side and froze, not daring to move another inch. Her shocked blue eyes fixed on the motionless form of Crystal sprawled out on the ground peacefully, as if she were merely sleeping; one arm stretched out slightly in front of the other. Her rumpled and damp brown hair crumple in the remnants of a loose pony tail streaked with mud. As for the eyes, they were sealed in serene slumber. Never to open again.
For a one wretched moment, the Redfield sibs were at a loss for words.
Wesker grinned widely, savoring the shattered looks on his enemies' faces. Revenge was a dish best served hot...by him! All that was missing was a camera to capture the magical moment--the moment when the loathed Redfields lost one of their own.
" What, you didn't think I'd actually do it? " He laughed coldly, never taking his eyes off Chris's dismal, shaken face, " Surely you know me better than that! And mark my words, the same will happen to little Seth too. It's only a matter of..." he paused for dramatic effect, lightly licking the edge of his upper lip in a taunting display, "...time."
During all the commotion, neither brother nor sister noticed Spade sneak up on them. Now she stood directly behind them, blinking. Her eyes flitted from her father, to Crystal, then to the Redfield sibs.
" Dad I..."
The words snapped Chris out of his stupor. But instead of turning to see the source of the new voice, he instead balled his fists, eyes flashing with rage.
" Damn you Wesker! You dirty son of a &%$ $%$-ing %$#! You're going to die for this! I swear you're going to rot in Hell for this, bastard! " Chris raged in a savage voice that didn't sound at all like his. It was as if someone had put a colored lens over his eyes and all he could see was red.
His mind was alive; every fiber of his being burned with an agonizing fury! A fury to murder Wesker in the most brutal, bloody, painful way he could think of. The $%# deserved it!
Wesker was not at all intimidated by Chris's sudden fiery outburst. He actually laughed.
" Kill me? You and who else? Claire? " He pointed to a shell-shocked Claire, who was still staring at the body as if she expected it to get up and run away at any moment. Poor delusional Claire. He shook his head, finding the concept of an attacking Claire rather amusing. Like she would actually stand a chance. " Somehow that doesn't quite strike fear into my heart."
" Then this oughta strike fear into your tush! " The words came attached to a blaze of Alan that shot like a rocket from the jungle behind Wesker. He launched his right foot up into a perfectly-aimed flying kick that sent Wesker sailing through the air.
" Alan! " Chris, Claire, and Spade greeted in unison, some more enthusiastically than others.
Chris in particular was unenthused. Sure, he was happy to see him--that most likely meant that at least he and Claire would be able to survive--but his arrival was too late. Crystal was dead. His little girl was gone. Nothing would be able to change that. Not even Alan's miracle virus.
Alan screeched to a halt in front of Crystal's body, his sharp eyes missing no detail. One look at Chris and Claire's pained expressions, and one look at the listless Crystal, and he understood. Oh no...God no... Wesker had finally done it. His own father had at last made good on his threat and killed one of the Redfield kids. He detected no signs of life from the still warm body.
Claire gasped a sigh of relief. " Alan! It sure is good to see you! "
" A little late, aren't you? " Chris snapped. He dashed forward and picked his daughter up off the ground, all the while giving Alan such a harsh glare it actually caused the younger Wesker to flinch.
There was no mistake about it: Chris was angry. At Wesker. At himself. At the whole world. How could this happen?! Why?! Why do bad things always happen to us? Are we such terrible people to deserve this?!
Alan could read all too well the deep hurt and raw anger on his leader's face, and he felt his own sorrow rise up in an impending flood of raw emotion.
Crystal was dead. He couldn't help but feeling partially responsible. He should have been there. If he'd arrive only minutes sooner, maybe things would be different. Maybe his little half-cousin would still be alive.
But it was too late for that now. All that mattered now was protecting his friends. And he had not a moment to spare--Wesker was already getting up.
He shot Chris a sympathetic, helpless look before rushing his father. He couldn't change the past, but perhaps he could somehow set it at least halfway right. Achieve some degree of revenge. Wesker was going to pay for this one.
" Hey Dad! Alan's here! " Spade announced cheerfully.
Like Wesker was blind.
Wesker braced himself to face his charging son. " Yes, I did sorta notice that."
Though Alan was moving superhumanly fast, the movement was somewhat slowed down to Wesker's inhuman eyes. With the speed of a true T-2 carrier, he struck out and snagged his son's arm. Before he had time to react, he spun around and used Alan's own momentum to throw him into an old tree with enough force to split the wood.
" Dammit Alan, stay out of this! "
Alan sprang up in an instant, barely fazed by his woody encounter. " And why would I want to do that? " He threw, " I'm a member of Stars now--we don't turn our backs on friends. How could you do that? She was just a little girl! "
Not thirty feet away, Claire grabbed Chris by the arm and tugged, motioning him to follow her. Crystal's death was upsetting, but staying here would be like jumping into a pit of ravenous zombie dogs. With those kind of odds they may as well offer themselves to White Umbrella as guinea pigs and get it over with.
Yes, the time for moving was now. There would be time for mourning later.
" Come on! "
Unfortunately, Chris chose this of all moments to be stubborn. He planted his feet firmly in the ground and refused to budge.
" Come one! " Claire repeated urgently, pulling harder.
It was no use. Chris was staring blankly ahead at the clash of the Weskers, and his body posture indicated he didn't plan on moving any time soon. Almost like he was under a hypnotic spell.
What, is he suicidal or something? Claire thought, following his gaze.
Now Wesker held Alan in a tight headlock. It didn't last long: Alan tripped his father's legs out from under him and managed to free himself for about a billionth of a second. A sharp kick to his ribs sent him staggering backwards. Wesker did not play fair.
Chris watched this all as if in a mindless trance.
Claire quickly lost her patience. " Chris! " She was almost screaming now, " We have to pull out! "
Slowly, way too slowly for the circumstances, Chris turned to her. As he did so, Claire noticed that his eyes were glazed, his face ashen and devoid of hope. She'd seen zombies that more were optimistic. Poor guy.
" But what about Wesker? " He asked softly, his voice so calm it was disturbing.
" Alan can handle him."
" Are you sure? "
" No--that's why I want to go! "
" She has a good point." Spade cut in, and for the first time since this whole thing had happened Chris and Claire acknowledged her presence, " Our dad's very powerful. He not only taught Alan his moves, but helped him perfect them. If I were you I'd run as far away as I could, because if my brother loses you're next." Her words were calm, but her voice was flavored with anxiety.
While Chris could hardly argue with her logic, it still took another sharp tug from Claire to convince his muddled mind that it was time to move. At last he turned away and nodded to tell Claire he was ready to go.
Claire hesitated a moment longer. " What about you? " She called to Spade, forgetting for a moment that the black-haired-with-blonde-streaks teenager was in fact Wesker's daughter and ergo not in any danger.
Spade winked before turning her head back in the direction of the fight, where Wesker had just finished striking Alan a painful blow to the jaw. " I'll be fine. Just go! "
That's right, Claire remembered, turning and dashing towards the jungle, she's Wesker's daughter. Silly me.
She didn't feel even a little silly just now.
Chris ran alongside her, hugging Crystal tightly to his chest. " How far do you want to run? "
Claire picked up the pace, and it was a miracle she and Chris didn't trip and fall several hundred times with all the half-submerged roots, logs, and clumps of plants they sped over without noticing.
" I don't know...as far as we can. Alan is strong and a good fighter, but he can't fend him off forever."
" Spade! A little help here! " Wesker commanded briskly, narrowly avoiding a kick meant for his stomach. Much as he would never verbally admit it, Alan had improved since last they'd fought. Now his rogue son was almost as great a fighter as he was.
Now more than ever it was starting to feel like a battle of equals.
And, of course, if there was anything the S.T.A.R.S. betrayer despised, it was a fair fight.
" What, you need my sister to help you now? " Alan taunted, catching Wesker's arm in it's path to his face and swinging it around at an unnatural angle, " Easy enough to kill little three year old girls, but you can't pick on someone your own size? " His red and gold eyes sparkled with confidence--a total lack of the fear and respect they'd once held during all those missions years ago.
Wesker's own eyes burned with rage--two red-hot coals searing through his glossy black aviators. " Hey! You're not my size! "
Alan jumped back, feigning a hurt look. " Okay. So I'm two inches shorter. Big deal. Close enough. At least I don't go killing children! "
" She needed to die! " Wesker spat, zipping forward and managing to catch his unprepared son around the throat, " And now I'm starting to think you do too! " Holding one of Alan's arms down tightly with his free hand, he clenched the other tighter and tighter around his son's throat, attempting to choke the air out of him.
" Dad stop! " Spade pleaded, not wishing to see either one of her family members hurt. She may as well have been talking to the sky.
Wesker only squeezed tighter, and Alan brought his free arm up and started prying his fingers loose.
" Spade--don't just stand there, go get the you-know-what." Wesker grunted, having to use every ounce of his superhuman strength just to hold Alan still. This time he was careful to keep his feet in a very non-trippable position.
Spade started for the jet, then paused, as if unsure of something.
The ground shook slightly.
Wonderful. Mt. Fulcan was probably getting ready to erupt.
" What are you waiting for, a formal address? Hurry up! " Wesker growled, his patience tested to it's end. Alan was being very uncooperative, and now when he needed her the most Spade was just going to stand around and do nothing?
Unbelievable!
What kind of kids did I raise?
Suddenly Spade tensed up; green eyes widening in abject fear like a little kid coming face to face with the Boogeyman.
The ground shook again, this time much worse than before.
At first the Wesker men had thought it was merely the shockwaves of Mt. Fulcan about to go off, but seeing Spade's terrified expression now they weren't quite so sure.
" Troll! " Spade shouted, frantic. She pointed wildly behind them.
" Troll? " Wesker forgot about Alan and did a one-eighty.
Alan followed his example. " Troll." He agreed simply, for the hideous beast standing before them looked like a cousin of the Cave Troll in 'Harry Potter'.
The first thing that struck any of the Weskers was the size. The troll was easily as high as a ten story building. It was humanoid in appearance with sickly mottled-green skin and a hard, squat, deformed watermelon-shaped head resting heavily upon massive shoulders. A few loose strands of scraggly silver hair sprouted in secluded patches atop the otherwise bald scalp. The eyes were two gelatinous blobs of red sunken into deep, furrowed brows. The face was a grotesque mess of bloated pimples, nasty scars, and a wide, gaping mouth that would make a Halloween jack-o-lantern jealous. Secured firmly in the shrunken gray-green gums were very sharp, yellowed teeth to which pieces of flesh and clothes still clung. The nose bore a striking resemblance to a pig's snout.
The body was not easy on the eyes either. This troll had obviously eaten all his spinach when he was little, because each of his three-fingered fists were the size of SUVs, and each finger was as thick as a tree trunk. The bulging stomach looked as hard as a rock. Just below that, thankfully, was a gigantic loin-cloth which to the untrained eye appeared to be made of ill-cured leather.
But it couldn't fool Wesker and Alan's keen noses--they knew right away it was human skin.
Barefoot--and with rancid fungus-ridden toenails to boot--the abomination supported itself on two legs each as big around as the most giant of redwoods.
With a monstrous bellow that surely must've shook the entire island, and with a speed surprising for a monster of it's mass, the troll scooped a startled Wesker and Alan up in each one of it's mammoth hands.
" Oh man, who let the troll loose?! " Alan complained, and Wesker hardly thought it was a joking matter.
What to do now?! Wesker struggled violently as he and Alan were lifted scores of feet into the air. If he could just get out of the creature's hand, he could jump down and tear off into the jungle full-throttle. No way was he sticking around to pick a fight with this thing. It just wasn't happening. Wesker had his limits, and a one-hundred foot man-eating troll with sharp teeth and breath that could kill an elephant definitely qualified for the do-not-muck-with list.
Alan's frame of mind was much the same. The behemoth holding them was unlike anything he'd ever faced before and much too powerful to mess with without the assistance of a decent linear launcher or guided missile.
Man, the power of this big boy! He pushed against the titanic fingers with all his might and couldn't budge them an inch! Think Alan, think. His horrified mind buzzed, There has to be another way to escape this mutated King Kong. A way which doesn't involve me getting my guts squeezed out trying to pull free.
There was always the verbal approach. Lame. But worth a try.
" Hey! What's the big idea? " He yelled up at the monster, glowing his eyes in what he hoped was an intimidating gesture, " Put us down! "
Only subconsciously did he realize that he'd used the word 'us' instead of 'me'.
Wesker shot him a look which suggested he thought that maybe he wasn't quite right in the head. " What are you trying to do, get us killed quicker? "
" Well do you have a better idea? " Alan snapped, shifting his gaze from the hideous travesty of a mouth to his father, " Because if you do I'm all ears! "
The troll smacked it's lips--if you could call them that--together in a sickening wet sound which sent droplets of drool falling through the air to land on the helpless T-2 carriers.
It had them. It had them good.
" You don't want to eat me," Alan pleaded, " I'm bad for trolls. One hundred percent poison. Not to mention all the calories...think of the fat! I'm practically off the charts in carbs and cholesterol. And I taste terrible. Like...like those awful black-licorice jellybeans." He made a face of disgust in demonstration, " Ugh. Buddy, you eat me, you'll be dead within a week. Trust me. Speaking of food, have you ever thought about going vegetarian? I hear it's all the craze nowadays. All the cool trolls are doing it."
Wesker would have laughed if he wasn't about to be killed. " Yeah Alan, he really wants to listen to your sound dieting advice. That's why he's drooling all over us and looking at me like a crowned rack of lamb."
Alan gave a sad sigh. " Just a thought."
On second thought...maybe we're doomed.
What a way to go--an appetizer for a giant uglier-than-sin troll that so desperately needed to go on a diet anyway.
Perhaps he'd given up a bit too soon. An instant later and there was the unmistakable roar of a jet being fired up.
" Spade?! " Wesker gasped, realizing his daughter's plan.
She was going to try and save them by distracting the thundering oaf. Brave girl, Wesker had to give her credit for that.
" Braaauuugh! " The troll sneered, narrowing it's pudgy eyes on the sleek black jet.
The jet began to move away, picking up speed.
Luckily for the Wesker men, Mr. Troll wasn't all that bright. In his simple mind anything that moved was food, and the bigger the better. The big jet looked awfully appetizing.
His eyes shifted to the tiny morsels he held in his hands, and he curled his lip in distaste. Why settle for a couple of peas when he could have the full entrée? Decided, he threw the puny nothings at the ground and thundered after the jet.
Spade heard the colossal giant lumbering after her even through the roar of the motor; saw his monstrous bulk closing the not-nearly-nearly-long-enough distance between them through the mirrors. A creature that size was kinda hard to miss.
The first thing that she noticed was that it no longer held her father and brother, and a quick flood of relief swept through her mind. They would be okay. The diversion had worked beautifully, and that big blockhead had fallen for it.
Now she must worry about herself. This was going to be the tricky part. Truth be told, she hadn't really thought of this phase of the plan yet. When time was of the essence and people's lives were on the line it didn't exactly give you time to work out all the kinks.
Frantic, her eyes swept the control panel, taking in each individual button and brightly colored flashing light. It might help if she actually knew what she was looking for. For that matter, it might help if she knew much of anything at all about how to operate jets. During all the excursions with her father, she'd been merely the passenger--she hadn't needed to know this stuff. Even if she'd wanted to learn, it was doubtful her father would have permitted it. So what would be the point? Up until now, there had really been no reason to pay attention to how her dad did it.
Now she wished had.
I wish there was a manual nearby, and that I had time to read it. Maybe practice a bit before the troll attacked. Might as well dream big, right?
" Brraaaaaaghh!!! " The impatient troll bellowed, getting uncomfortably close. A few more yards and he'd have her!
Spade's mind swam; desperate for a plan. What am I going to do now?! She took another look at the main controls and felt like screaming right along with the bad-tempered troll. All these cursed switches and levers all looked the same! What kind of moron designed these panels anyway? There should be very big, very noticeable levers labeled 'take off' and 'land'. And just what the heck are all these fancy gauges for anyway?
It was absurd. Insane even. If only she could turn the craft around, she stood a chance of finding the weapons switch and unleashing a couple dozen round of machine gun fire on the nasty beastie. One good thing about this jet at least: her dad always made sure to keep it well-stocked with the bullets, missiles, and the occasional bomb just for good measure. Being in the assassination business, it helped to be prepared for all sorts of odd jobs HCF could dish.
What did half these buttons do? There was only one way to find out. Going on pure instinct, Spade pressed the nearest button in front of her--a small rectangular black one.
This proved not to be the right choice. The radio blared on with the gale of a hundred ghetto speakers and nearly blasted her through the roof: " Shot through the heart, and you're toooo blame. Darling you give luh-huuhhvve...a bad name! "
The corner of Spade's mouth pulled down in a gloomy frown. " Right. I'm sure he isn't going to notice that. Music to die by. I must be the luckiest girl in the world." The volume was up so loud her eardrums throbbed like hammers pounding inside her head. " Volume switch! Volume switch! " Who had had the music up that loud anyway? Certainly not her dad--not with his sensitive ears.
Jet stereo systems should not have volumes that went this high. Period. It was inhumane.
Spade's shaky fingers reached over to the left, where she was about to turn a promising dial when suddenly a sharp 'screeeeeuuuunch' caught he attention, followed swiftly by a large 'thud' that felt more like a nuclear bomb going off.
Troll Boy had leapt unto the back of the jet! And he wasn't be sneaky about it, either. Spade thought she'd go deaf with the combination of the music and all the horrendous twisting, crashing, smashing, and all out mutilation of metal as the jet stopped and collapsed; the supporting wheels unable to withstand the added weight.
" Mrrraaaawww! " The triumphant troll screamed, his booming voice somehow managing to rise above Bon Jovie's in the fray. Any natives might not have seen the fight thanks to the all the greenery the island had to offer, but they had to have heard it. Flush the subtle approach down the toilet.. A stampede of elephants had nothing on this.
Spade's ears rang with the horrible racket, the perfect compliment to her rapidly-forming headache. At the moment, that was the least of her worries.
With another guttural roar of victory just to make sure that every creature on the island understood what a big, tough, mighty troll he was, the behemoth giant began smashing into the back of the jet: tearing away generous strips of metal in his powerful fingers. The scream of the metal being twisted, torn, and snapped apart reminded Spade of TV shows she'd seen where two trains collided.
For a moment, she sat still--glued to the pilot's seat while she tried to figure out her next course of action. Stay in the jet where she was hidden, but could possibly be killed, or race for the cover of the jungle where she might attract the troll's attention? Both had their risks.
Another huge chunk was ripped from the back of the jet in a shriek of metal, and now the aircraft had a nice skylight; free of charge. A split second later, and the ceiling almost directly over Spade's head exploded inward leaving a considerable dent not two feet in front of her face.
That did it. Staying in this death-trap was suicide. And being killed was a long way down on Spade's list of fun things to do. She was so outta here.
Without wasting another second, the young Wesker girl scrambled as quickly as she could out of the pilot's seat, opened the hatch, and jumped out. It was a good six foot drop to the ground, and the ungracious landing on her butt sure smarted, but at least she was still alive. For the time being.
The troll was still on the back of the crippled jet--still hammering away angrily with it's massive fists. It was horrible to think about--and even less pleasant to watch--something like that happening to such a gorgeous and high-tech piece of machinery. Oh-well. Better it than me. The troll paused briefly to take a bite of a big chunk of metal. Thankfully, it hadn't noticed Spade.
Which was the way she liked it. A mix of fear and adrenaline served as rocket-fuel to launch Spade to her feet and send her shooting towards the safety of the jungle. She didn't know exactly where her father and brother were--all she knew for certain was that she didn't want to be convenient when that oversized dogface decided that perhaps humans tasted better than jets.
