Chapter 23
Wow. That's quite a castle. Wesker thought as he eyed the structure over from his rocky vantage point atop a high ridge half a mile away. Indeed, Veronica's fortress could not be mistaken for anything else. Large-stone and gray, it was huge; easily towering over many of the old castles in the English countryside. There were several towers jutting up like proud sentinels into the now beautiful late morning sky. Each of these towers was trimmed with sloping black shingles and hordes of angry gargoyles and dragons standing watch. The stone golems lined every ridge and outcropping of the building in abundance.
Veronica seemed to have a thing for dragons. They were carved into the stonework at every available crease; Norse dragons, Chinese dragons, fierce dragons, dragons with their mouths open in proud display of their teeth and savagery, and calmer, more relaxed dragons with their snouts closed and wings folded--merely keeping a wary watch over all that transpired below.
Most of the statues were of a glossy black onyx, but a few had more fiery, angry colors. Even from this distance, Wesker swore he could make out the fierce red eyes designed to scare all would-be intruders away.
The castle itself, apart from rivaling fairy-tale castles in sheer size and elegance, was very craftily designed and didn't seem to be made by the hands of mortals. Even from this far a distance, Wesker could see that the edges were far too smooth and polished, the handiwork way too detailed to have come from any 17th century craftsman's tools. Olde English style flags emblazoned with fearsome black and gold dragons fluttered softly in the breeze. The entire perimeter surrounding the gorgeous building was encompassed by a threatening black steel fence at least ten feet high and tipped with razor points.
Wesker took this in with a slight look of awe on his normally unreadable features. He had to admit, it was impressive. Very impressive. Very fairy-tale esque, and yet there it was, looming in the distance like a shiny treasure calling his name.
Absently, the ex S.T.A.R.S. captain leapt off his perch, fell three stories, and landed unscathed on his feet near a surprised lizard. The frightened reptile scurried off into the nearest rock crevice, and Wesker paid it no heed. He was much more interested in the glorious Ashford abode and how exactly he was going to go about this.
The fence would be easy enough to leap, but what awaited on the other side? Would Veronica have some hideous monster waiting just beyond those bars? Judging from the outward appearance of the place, it was a safe bet that the sorceress liked her privacy.
Wesker inclined his head slightly to the left, surveying the scene at a slightly different angle. There weren't many trees or bushes near the castle or fence. He made a mental note of possible hiding places on the off-chance that the need would arise before zipping off towards the front gates.
Like it or not, Veronica was about to get a visitor.
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Spade studied her new surroundings with rising interest. From what she could tell, she was in a warehouse storeroom. Throngs of chemicals, books, flasks, beakers, boxes, crates, and all that scientific mumbo-jumbo lined the cold metal walls and filled the many shelves and semi-open cabinets populating the vicinity. It was very dark in the room--almost too dark to see, in fact--and Spade had to wait a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light before she dared brave that first move.
Smells funny. Like a science lab. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the unpleasant chemical smell lingering in the air. Where am I anyway? That question would have been easier to answer if there had been any obvious clues nearby.
This could be any science storeroom anywhere. It could even be Umbrella! As for the date, that was another matter. Since everything looked fairly recent, and there were no dinosaurs or saber-toothed tigers roaming about, it was a fairly safe assumption she hadn't gone all that far back in the past.
Or future.
Angelique hadn't covered that base, but was it possible for one of the Hylen pieces to be hidden in the future? She could very well be in the year 2026 for all she knew. Wouldn't that be something?
Well, she wasn't making any progress just standing here in the center of some unknown room with the lights out. Drawing her combat knife from the sheath in her boot, she crept forward slowly, cautiously, testing her environment for any hint of danger, mimicking her father's stealthy motion.
It was one of the first lessons Wesker had taught her, in fact. You could never be too careful. Just because the water was calm didn't mean there weren't crocodiles lurking beneath. In case of an emergency, she had a back-up beretta with a clip of fifteen bullets. She'd wanted a magnum, of course, but for some reason Daddy still refused to let her carry one.
This was irksome, but the way Spade figured, her father was still probably not over the whole Alan-turning-on-him episode, so he was being extra careful this time around. All she had to do was prove herself to him and he'd let her have the heavy artillery. Maybe even the T-2 virus!
Her thoughts wandered back to the beretta. Damn. Probably should have brought more bullets. Certainly would make her feel safer.
Aha. There was a door dead-ahead. It was metal and heavy looking. Which suggested this was probably an important room. You didn't barricade a toilet.
The green-eyed teenager snuck over to it and pressed an ear against the cold alloy. There were faint vibrations on the other side; like people waling from far off, and nothing more. Where am I?!
Wouldn't it suck to be in a restricted-access room of some secret government base? Umbrella wasn't very benevolent towards strangers prowling around the off-limits areas of their facilities either. It might be dangerous.
Spade sighed so softly it would have barely been audible to a dog's sensitive hearing. It seemed wrong that other people had gotten partners for their portals and here she was stuck going it solo.
It wasn't like she even wanted to go on this hair-brained mission anyway. No one had asked her. No, that had been Angelique's decree. Spade Wesker had gotten no choice in the matter. Where was the justice in that?
She turned her wrist and played with the weapon she grasped, drawing delicate fingers over sharp metal just gingerly enough not to draw blood. Getting thrown someplace she did not want to be was not sitting well with the leather-clad Wesker girl.
The Redfields, from her observations, were nothing but a bunch of whiny losers. She was starting to agree with her father there. Tons of people died every day...many of them kids Crystal's age...and they didn't so much as bat an eyelid, yet when it happened to the holy Redfield familyeveryone acted like it was just the biggest tragedy ever.
Little brat probably had it coming. So whiny and clingy. Dad was doing them a favor killing her. One less baby to watch out for.
The blade was pleasantly sharp. A sudden sharp prick of pain, and she looked down to see a fresh red line appear over the pink flesh of one digit. Instinctively, she drew the finger to her mouth, licked the blood off it.
At first Spade had been merely apathetic towards the youngest Redfield's death, but the more she thought about it, the more she was glad her dad had finally done one in. True, part of it was that she had always hated little kids and couldn't stand to be around them. They were always so clingy, so dependant. Everything was 'Momma' this and 'Dadda' that, and to top that off they couldn't run if their lives depended on it. Always underfoot, whiny, messy, distracting, and asking endlessly stupid questions. It was just so...bothersome.
All young children should be shipped off to some island until they were maybe 13. Then the ones that had survived would be worthy enough to be adults. Yes, that was a big part of it. But there was more to it than a simple distaste for children.
Perhaps the biggest reason for Spade's ill feelings had to do with her big brother Alan. He had looked so sad and angry about the whole thing. Like he was ready to avenge Crystal's death by taking out their own father.
It hurt. It hurt that Alan thought more about his 'new' little family than he did his biological whom he'd grown up with. Her father was right: Alan may just as well be a Redfield now. He sure liked to act like one.
The more she thought about it, the more bitter she became. Five years. Five years and Mother and I may as well not exist. Then Mom dies, and all I have left is Dad and Alan. You'd think he'd be more supportive of me. But no, Alan doesn't want to be with his true family. He'd rather settle in with Team Red-White-And-Blue and make googly eyes at that lame excuse for an Ashford. He'd do anything for them, even down to killing his own family. I can't believe he cares about them that much, and I'm like the leftover spinach from yesterday's dinner. Yeah, you go Alexis. It must be nice to have my brother actually care about you when he was perfectly willing to leave my ass with Dad, especially since Dad is such a 'bad guy'. Hmphf. He's been a lot nicer to me than Alan.
Her finger was bleeding more now, and she stuck it in her mouth; tasted the salty-copper tang of her own life fluid.
What was she looking for again?
Right.
The Hylen.
To stop big bad Veronica from attaining her 'evil' goal. But was it really such a terrible thing? Good....evil...they were just words people used to express their personal opinions on any given subject. Just because say, Angelique, thought that what Veronica was doing was evil didn't make it so. And the way things were looking, the S.T.A.R.S. gang had a snowball's chance in Hell of fighting someone as powerful as the Ashfords' mighty ancestor.
As her dad would put it, it was time to chose teams.
Find a piece of the Hylen.
Okay, suppose she found it and then turned it over to Veronica? The sorceress was sure to be pleased. Maybe even pleased enough to grant her and her father certain privileges in her new world. Wesker would undoubtedly be proud, and, hey...he might even give her the T-2 virus for doing such a sneaky, self-beneficial act!
Who cared about the others; the world was a dog-eat-dog jungle where only the strongest survived. As for Alan...well...he could take care of himself. She still cared about him, but he was on the losing side of this war. Most of the world sucked anyway; Veronica couldn't do any worse than the world's current leaders.
A brilliant plan?
Oh yes, very much so.
Yes, now all I have to do is find the stupid thing. Easier said than done. After one last visual scan around the room to make sure it was devoid of all things fitting the Hylen's description, Spade tried the door. Much to her relief, it came open without a fuss.
Now she was entering a brightly-lit hallway lined on either side with a multitude of professional-looking doors. The white-tile floor was so clean that she could see her reflection in the gloss. Thankfully, no one was about.
It was a good thing, too. Here she was in a place she wasn't supposed to be with a wicked-sharp combat knife in full view. Not the wisest move. Carefully, she slid the weapon back into it's hidden boot sheath and silently prayed she wouldn't have to use it anytime soon. The complex looked a lot like a science base, and the last thing she wanted to do was give people a reason to attack her.
She sped by the doors, briefly stealing a glance into each window she passed by. Yep. Science labs. Very new science labs. Then she spotted the all-too-familiar red and white Umbrella insignia rendered carefully on some of the bottles and walls. An Umbrella base. Aren't I lucky?
This was not a good thing. Umbrella wasn't famous for it's hospitality. In fact, she was just as likely to be killed poking around here as in Area 51. Worse, she hadn't the faintest idea where to find one of the Hylen pieces. A lab, perchance?
An unexpected chill tingled her spine, and she suddenly felt watched. Freezing in her tracks, she swiveled her head to all sides, her specially-trained eyes taking in every crevice.
There.
A security camera nestled comfortable in the upper right-hand corner of the far wall. There was nothing comfortable, however, about the way the lens was focused right on her. Uh-oh.
Who was watching the feed? Did it even matter?
Panicked, Spade launched herself forward, quickening her stride with each step. She had no clear plan in mind, all she could think about at the moment was just how much she wanted out of that thing's sight.
Fwoosh!
A door flew open in front of her, and the neatly-fashioned girl nearly collided with the man who stepped out carrying a clipboard full of papers.
" Gah! " It was a mutual surprise.
The man quickly closed the door behind him and turned to regard Spade with startled cadet-blue almost gray eyes. He wasn't old--early to mid-thirties, perhaps. A white labcoat with tan dress-pants and the traditional black shoes made up his attire. His hair could be best described as short, wispy, and blond.
It took Spade a full moment to recognize him, and in case there were any doubts at all lingering in the back of her mind, his nametag provided all the evidence she needed.
" Birkin?! "
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Of all places, of all times, why Rockfort? Why now? I've never been to this place in my entire life. This is parboiled zombie vomit. Even smells like it. Alexis wasn't exactly feeling ecstatic. Veronica's hex was working beautifully. As far as time-travel went, this would not have been her first choice.
The place stank to high heaven. Not only that, but she was dressed lightly and it was nippy out. The rain had subsided to a fine light drizzle now, leaving the damp earth blanketed in a cool wispy fog. Which was going to absolutely work wonders for any zombies and zombie-dogs hiding in the area. And, unlike my mother, I can get infected and die. Well, at least I have my health....in full defiance, her arm throbbed, causing her to flinch in pain, ...mostly. Okay, have to come to grips here. What do I know about Rockfort Island? Hmmm...not much. Steve and Claire both agree that it was a very bad place to be, and my father was running around being his usual less-than-sane self too...she sighed, perfect. If I met him in this time looking like this, he'd think I was Alexia for sure. In fact, a million bucks says that's going to be the general consensus around here. Strong family resemblance was definitely not doing her any favors.
Ever since the Steve incident--and that had not worked to plan--Alexis had spent the last half hour or so just wandering around aimlessly trying to get a clue where everything was. A lay of the land would certainly come in handy if she found herself being chased by some fearsome bio-weapon. Hopefully she wouldn't have to deal with that anytime soon.
The Hylen had to be somewhere on this island. But where? That's where the details got murky. Angelique didn't know and Veronica certainly wasn't going to be of any help.
Pressing forward, the shivering blonde opened the next gate. With any luck this area would be better than the last...nope. Now she was in a small graveyard with narrow paths cut neatly among the grimy headstones. High brick-walls bearing rows of barbed wire at the top surrounded the entire perimeter. A string of dead zombies cluttered the path--bleeding from multiple gunshots.
Alexis wasn't surprised. During the time she'd been here she'd heard gunshots being fired off at random intervals. Claire and Steve making their way through the area. Since she didn't have any weapons herself, they could just go at it. Not like they were going to die or anything.
Alexis's fate was less certain.
The zombies laying in front appeared to be dead, but only an idiot would take that for granted. She stepped over them carefully, avoiding too much eye-contact with the grisly details and instead focusing her attention on the headstones. None of them looked all that old, but they were in such bad repair that half the names on them didn't even come close to being legible. Many were riddled with cracks and chips, and the ones that weren't were covered in a thick coat of green moss. She felt a wave of sorrow for the people buried here. Odds were ten to one they didn't deserve whatever fate had befell them.
A sudden flash of movement!
The Ashford jerked back instantly. Directly in front of her, a gray-skinned virus-carrier she'd been certain was down for the count clattered it's teeth. No other part of it's body moved, just the teeth.
Were zombies supposed to do that?
Yuck. Alexis's light red lips curled back in disgust, and she was forced to hold her breath. Mr. Chatter-box zombie's chest and face held more bullets than a semi-automatic, and he was in that ripe stage of decay. Grimacing in disgust, she gave that one a wide berth. Ahead was a wrecked truck protruding halfway through the wall and dangling some sparking wires.
Well well, someone was a terrible driver. Or maybe not so much a terrible driver as a person under the influence of the T-virus. Sad. He wasn't the one to blame for the crimes committed on this island. Poor sap probably didn't even know what was going on until it was too late. There are times---like now---when being an Ashford sucks. Why am I going this way?
She found herself at a loss to explain why she was heading down a spooky flight of stone steps. All things considered, it didn't seem like the brightest thing to do. What if there were more zombies lurking down there? She could be walking straight into disaster!
Down the steps extended a long, narrow hallway that twisted in a bend. It was too dark to make out anything beyond that. Alexis froze. Standing perfectly still, she strained every muscles in her ears to listen. There was a lot of dripping going on. Apparently the rain clouds weren't the only thing that leaked around here. Sounded like it was coming from the piping. Which was really quite inexcusable. What, Dad has all this money and he can't even afford to fix the plumbing? She sighed and shook her head. Cheapskate.
Aside from the leaky pipes, the hall was quite enough to hear a pin drop. It took a moment, but after she was dead certain she heard no shuffling about, Alexis decided to continue.
There might be weapons in the next room. Not that she would ever be able to see them in the pitch blackness.
Fishing around in the generous pockets of her shorts, she withdrew the lighter she'd came across on the ground earlier. Amazingly, it had still worked.
Voila!
A quick spark, and a tiny flame blazed to life. Alexis had to smile as she held the flickering flame out in front of her, bathing the gray stone walls in a weak, iridescent firelight that constantly shifted with the shadows. It sure paid to be resourceful. Feeling well pleased with herself at having had the foresight to snatch the item up, she continued down the narrow passage and around the bend.
Just as she'd predicted, there were no zombies or cerberuses waiting to attack her. There were, however several dripping pipes. At the end of the hall was a door, and sitting by it on a stand in the most unusual of places was an old-fashioned typewriter of all things.
Alexis met the odd sight with raised eyebrows. This was absurd! What the...who puts a typewriter in the hall? My oh my, Dad really did crack up! Approaching softly, she hovered the lighter over the ancient relic of the pre-computer days, bathing the old machine in a soft glow. It appeared to still be in commission. There was even a brand new ink ribbon sitting out next to it.
Frightening. On some level, more frightening than the zombies. Zombies, at least, she was used to. Typewriters in strange new places she was not. The hallway was so narrow....
I can't believe this. This is nuts. A person can hardly get in the door. What's it...oh, I know! A faint smile split her face, Maybe this is so I can save my progress. Then if I die I can magicallycome back to life at this point like it never happened. She thought sarcastically, although she was forced to admit the though held some appeal, This is too much like 'President Evil'. What's next, the mad politics?
It brought back warm memories.
At least three or four times a week--a lot of times more if they could get away with it--Seth and Crystal came to visit Alexis and Alan at their house and stayed until well after dark. Alexis supposed that was because their parents were always too busy for them. Either that or they just got bored. Whatever the reason, during these visits President Evil had quickly became a popular game. Crystal had been too young for it, but Seth had been totally fascinated with it. To the point where he and 'uncle' ( Alexis always thought it was cute whenever he called him that. ) Alan spent hours on end playing.
Seth wasn't a particularly skilled player. His character was constantly dying and rejuvenating at some magical typewriter point. The kid was hopeless when it came to puzzles. More than once Alan had taken over for him, only to curse at the screen and throw the controller to the floor an hour later when he still hadn't gotten the blasted things right.
Alexis recalled one particularly frustrating scenario that had to do with--deep breath--finding the Washington family crest, only to take it clear across the game to the area with the door that needed it, only to find you still couldn't get in the room you wanted without George's wooden teeth--or was that plastic eye? Hard to keep all the off-the-wall paraphernalia straight--and all along the way you had to waste what precious ammo and health you had only to get into a room that turned out to be a deadly gas trap, so you had to quickly maneuver your character to turn a statue the right way, grab a sword and stick it in a big metal thingie, the result of which was that a mad politic jumped out at you and bit you at least a dozen times before you could kill him, and what should you find laying in the chamber with the politic?
Surprise surprise, the piano roll you needed waaaaaay back over at the other building on the other side of the bloody map! It was mind-boggling. It made no sense, no sense at all for anyone to want to hide their piano roll in a giant iron-maiden type chamber thingie that you had to go through all that red tape to get to. And once you finally got back to where you needed to be with the roll, it was to discover that the piano in fact opened up a secret compartment to a giant blue....thingamabob. And that thingamabob was but half of what you needed to get into a place that no sane person would ever, ever want to be with that crazy Franklin Pearce running around.
Ah, the logic of a video game. Despite the gloominess of her very much real-life surroundings, Alexis couldn't help but to crack a small smile. That Franklin Pearce was something else. In comparison, Dad is...mild. Hm. I should save up lots of ammo before I get to that part and...and why am I thinking about this now of all times? It was all so ridiculous! She had to suppress the urge to burst into a fit of giggles, Man, being inbred really is bad for your health. Ah! No! No Alexis! Watch out, some of that Ashford insanity it starting rub off on you! Ack. Shaking out of it, the more mild member of the Ashford family turned her attention once again to the thin metal door standing between her and god-knew-where. Something told her she should go inside...call it a gut feeling.
Bracing herself for the unexpected, a wary Alexis opened the door and stepped into a small room lit only by her lighter and the soft glow of another, solitary lighter, set out on a heavy wooden desk. The gentle light of the flames played across a dark-skinned man also present at the desk; half-sitting and half-slumped in the chair.
He had had his head down, but at the sound of his turf being invaded he jerked upright at once; a sheer, unbridled panic taking his face, " What...who's there? " He sputtered nervously, sparkling dark eyes alive with fear. He snatched his own personal lighter with one hand while his other dove for his side where he probably kept a weapon.
" Don't shoot! I'm not a zombie! "
The man breathed a quick sigh of relief and relaxed his gun-hand. The lighting was not perfect, but now Alexis could see that he was in fact Hispanic with deeply tanned skin and short, jet black hair a bit damp in front with perspiration. He by no means fit into the drop-dead-gorgeous category, but he wasn't homely either. A gory slash decorated his chest, and his right arm was caked with dried blood. Rough and ragged, he didn't look--or smell--like he'd had a shower in days.
" Another survivor? " The man whom Alexis had yet to identify squinted at her suspiciously through haggard, bloodshot eyes. He looked ready to fall asleep where he stood. Clearly he hadn't been expecting company.
But why was he sitting all alone in a dark room? Shouldn't he be out trying to make a break for it? Alexis's mind fogged with questions. There was something not quite right with this picture.
Hispanic Guy--for that was the mental tag Alexis had given him--shook his head in genuine disbelief. The girl before him....he'd recognize those features anywhere. The soft, creamy skin, the perfectly figured body. Delicate rosebud lips. Golden waves of hair. Glittering blue eyes.
" Well I'll be damned." He mused aloud, cracking a wane smile in spite of himself, " There really is an Alexia Ashford." The undertone to his words carried a genuine note of wonder and surprise.
Why not? Here we go again. Alexis sighed inwardly at being mistaken for her mother yet again in the course of her relatively short life. She shook her head firmly. " No. I'm not Alexia. I'm..."
But Hispanic Guy wasn't listening. He suddenly lurched forward, banging his broad white tee-shirt clad chest sharply against the edge of the desk and clutching his stomach with his bad arm, which only made it hurt all the more.
" Oomphf! " He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, clenched his teeth, and twisted his face into a sour expression, rocking with the unexpected pain.
" Are you okay? " Alexis worried, moving in closer. Setting her own lighter on the desk, she grabbed his flailing arm and helped him steady his. Beyond that, she was unsure what else to do.
Hispanic Guy was not in good shape. Not at all. Her eyes flitted over his body, assessing the damage. A big gash here. Lots of blood there. Cuts. Bruises. A raw arm.
The wounds were serious, but if they were treated in time it probably wouldn't be anything life-threatening.
If they were treated in time.
On a prison island where ninety-five percent of the population were zombies, however, Alexis was sad to admit that his prognosis was looking pretty grim.
" Back! Just...back! " Hispanic Guy ordered sternly.
Alexis drew back with a start, giving him space. Ok ok, touchyyyyy. " I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She said in cool, calming tones.
The man shook his head, still fending off waves of pain. It was now that his visitor noticed the empty jar of hemostat medicine lying on it's side on the far edge of the table.
Hemostat. A medicine used to stop heavy bleeding.
There was no doubt about it: if this guy didn't get to the proper facilities soon he was a goner.
" You were just trying to help? " He lifted his chin, his features suddenly warmed by some invisible glow. As if her words had spoken straight to his heart. He actually managed a weak chuckle, dulled only slightly by his discomfort. " Wonders never cease! " Sitting his lighter next to Alexis's, his eyes never wandered from the kind young woman who had set foot into his abode. There was a certain sparkle in those dark brown eyes as he continued, " I've been abused by Ashfords for so long I never thought I'd trust one again. But here you are; all wet and soggy, and just as vulnerable as anyone else in this hellhole. And we have your brother to thank for it all."
" But I'm not...."
" Don't bother trying to deny it," Hispanic Guy went on, his tone not unfriendly, " There is no way you cannot be Alexia Ashford. The resemblance is too striking. Now I don't know what goes on behind closed doors between you and Alfred, but I've already seen enough to know you're worlds better than him. I can't blame you for not wanting to admit you're related, but it's okay here. We're just about the only ones alive on this island anyway." His eyes drifted fondly to the lighter, and he found himself thinking of Claire and how she'd been kind enough to not only bring him back medicine when he'd freed her, but also gave him her brother's special lighter.
And she'd been his prisoner.
So comforting to know that kindness and compassion still existed in the world. After working so many years with Umbrella...after awhile one began to have their doubts. Wow. She is just as beautiful as they say. He thought, his eyes roaming over Alexis's nearly perfect figure.
Oddly enough, the young lass was dressed only in shorts, sandals, and a T-shirt. Not the proper attire for this weather, and it showed in the way she was constantly shivering; goosebumps prickling up all over her otherwise smooth skin. Her right arm was also wounded, and either she or a friend had bandaged it up with what looked like part of an old blanket.
Sloppy, but better than nothing. Hispanic Guy shook his head.
" You look cold."
To Alexis's surprise, he stood up and pulled a heavy military coat she hadn't even noticed before from the back of his chair. " Here. Take this." He offered, holding the coat out.
Alexis didn't wait to be asked twice. Grateful, she snatched it up and put it on immediately. It was too big of course, but it was very warm. " Thank you. You're very kind."
Hispanic Guy laughed and made the famous it-was-nothing gesture with his good hand. " Naw. I aint nice, it's just..." Just what? Thoughtful acts didn't come naturally to him, and he was unused to people actually treating him like a human being for a change. This day may be the day from Hell, but these girls were sure from Heaven. It was just hard to be rude to someone who treated you so decently. Though usually a tad too far over on the self-centered side, when he was around good people like Alexia and Claire, he found himself thinking more and more of others.
How to put these thoughts into words?
" Well..." Faltering for words, he sank back down into his seat and gestured the empty bottle of hemo and lighter both respectively, " Someone once did me a favor even though most people in her circumstances wouldn't have. I guess kindness is contagious."
Alexis snuggled into her new coat, pleased to have something dry and halfway warm to wrap up in. " I wish that were always true."
The man--Alexis had let to learn his name--nodded solidly in firm agreement. " World would be a better place. But enough with the chitchat, you need to get off this island while you still have the chance. Hopefully you can meet up with Claire Redfield--she was the girl who helped me out. At least then you wouldn't be alone. Wait a minute..."he snapped his fingers, " what about your brother? I'm sure he would know all kinds of..."
Alexis opened her mouth to say "He's not my brother." Instead it came out, " I...I don't think that would be such a great idea. Alfred and I we uh...had a fight, and he's..." she strained for the right words, "...kinda outta the picture." She moved in closer, reached for her new friend's arm, " Come on, let's escape together! " Or find the Hylen, common sense argued. After all, she hadn't been sent back into time just to enjoy the scenery. What Veronica was planning on doing to the world made Rockfort Island look like a Picnic in Candyland.
Well, maybe not that tame, but it was definitely small potatoes in comparison.
A gloomy, desolate frown manifested itself on the dark-skinned man's face. He shook his head slowly, already regretting the words he hadn't yet spoken.
" Sorry. I'd...like to but...I'm too big a liability. I'm hurt...pretty badly. I'd only slow you down. You'll have to go on without me."
" What?! No! I can't just leave you down here! We can get out together and..."
" No!" Hispanic Guy barked, his tone much harsher than he'd intended, " I mean, one way or the other, it just isn't practical. If I went with you I'd just get us both killed. It isn't pretty, but it's the truth. Alone you stand a better chance. It's...the way it has to be. After you've left I'll try and escape, that way if I go down at least I won't take you with me. I don't want my dying thoughts to be how much I hate myself for getting you killed as well."
" I understand." Alexis conceded solemnly. She lowered her cobalt gaze to the floor, marveled at just how incredibly filthy it was. " I just wish there was something I could do for you to make me feel...less guilty."
" There is."
Alexis's gaze rose from the ground, fixed on her newfound friend's haggard face. Her own features took on a note of surprise as she studied the expression closer and found, hidden beneath all the weariness and fear, a twinge of glinting hope.
" After you get out of this mess, try and change things for the better." He swept a feeble hand over the stacks of papers scattered about messily on his desk, causing the flames of both lighters to sway slightly in his wake, " Umbrella is a bad company, Alexia. But it doesn't have to be. As an Ashford you have the power to turn things around for the better. Nothing like this ever has to happen again. Ever." This last word was spoken with extreme emphasis, " Show Umbrella what it should be, help it become what it can be. Not...this," he shifted his eyes around the dark room, letting the circumstances speak for themselves, " but an actual pharmaceutical company that helps people without all the secrets, misery, and death. Umbrella has a lot of power and influence. Why not use them for good? "
Because I'm not Alexia, and there's no way on God's green earth she's going to let me get away with something like that. Alexis sighed mentally. She wished things were different. She really did. But the truth could be a terrible, vicious thing. It was infamous for it's ability to crush hopes and tear down dreams. Even if things were...different with Mom and Dad, I have no real power or influence. Just the Ashford name, and that's it. I doubt every single crooked scientist working on the next ultimate bioweapon would listen to me. Perhaps a few would but....it's a wonderful concept, I just don't see it happening anytime soon. I will do everything in my power to help see it through though. Small steps. Everything has to start somewhere.
" I will do everything I can." The still slightly shivering blonde promised resolutely, snuggling deeper into the folds of the coat.
Changing things for the better, that's what she'd been trying to do all along. If only this man knew the half of it. Of course, he thought she was Alexia, but so what? There was no point in arguing with him. It gave the real Alexia an undeserved but refreshing good image, and it was a far more believable explanation for her looks than anything she could come up with anyway.
Hispanic Guy smiled warmly, masking the fear and unease he felt inside. " I'd appreciate that. Here." He opened a drawer just beneath the table portion of the desk and produced a silver and black colored beretta along with a package of twenty 'American Wolf' bullets. " It's already loaded, so you'll have a little extra ammo in case of trouble. It's not much against those creatures but..." he shrugged, " it'll help."
Alexis took the weapon and shoved the pack of bullets into one of the army-camouflaged pockets of her new coat. Now she had a way of defending herself.
No thanks to Steve. The memory rushed back like an unwelcome guest, and was forced automatically to the darkest corners of her mind. No point it getting all bent out of shape over it. What was done was done, and in Steve's defense she did look every bit like a member of the evil Ashford family, and that had done her in right from the start. If she had been in Steve's shoes--had gone through all he had gone through--she honestly couldn't say she'd have behaved any differently. The family's bad rep was to blame, not Steve.
Then why am I still upset over it?
An awkward silence gripped the room, broken only by the rhythmic dripping of water falling from the loose piping. The room really wasn't in the best of repair. Now that she had a better look, Alexis could see the tiny prison cell with it's barely ajar door. That had to have been where Claire had stayed, and it looked quite cramped. The cot was nowhere near long enough to sleep on, and it looked as hard as a brick.
Which it probably was.
Alexis recalled her own miserable stay in a cell not much bigger than this one. How horrible that had been! She had only been there less than a month, but it had felt like a year. Meager portions of food and water. Only the most basic needs to keep you alive. Hours upon hours of endless boredom and waiting; wondering what they were going to do with you next. Praying for the metaphorical knight in shining armor. And, at least in her case, the ever-present threat of Wesker looming overhead.
Oh, she'd known he was bad news right from the start, but Alexis had never fully grasped how much danger she'd been in until she'd seen the man in action. He could have snapped her in two with barely any effort at all. He was practically like General Zod from 'Superman Two'. Except that Zod at least showed mercy towards those who surrendered to his will, whilst Wesker was just plain twisted. It was a miracle she'd been able to escape him in one piece. Back in Africa, Alan had had to struggle pretty fiercely to defend her life. That was not a comforting thing to remember, especially with Mr. Death in Shades still on the loose.
For a long moment, neither soul spoke a word. Then Alexis's benefactor at last broke the quiet.
" Go on then. Claire was here almost an hour ago. If you hurry, you should still be able to catch her. The two of you together could figure it out from there."
" Are you sure you won't be needing...this? " She extended her right arm and displayed the gun properly, liking the feel of it's weight in her hand. It made her feel more powerful, less vulnerable. The question, of course, was rhetorical. She knew Hispanic Guy was going to say no and insist she have it, and it was only out of politeness that she had asked in the first place. Help ease the ride on the guilt trip.
" No, you go ahead. I have another one around here....somewhere. Even if I can't find it, I know where to get more. Please, don't worry about me. Claire was willing to have faith in me, I'd like for you to do the same. Think of it as payment for the coat and gun if it helps."
" Alright." Alexis offered a small, slightly chilled smile. Chilled only in the sense that she was still a bit a cold, and not for any other reason. Collecting her lighter, she spun on her heel and headed for the door. " Take care. I hope we'll meet again someday."
" That'd be nice. Watch your back, the zombies and mutants aren't your only enemies. Be careful who you trust."
" I will." Alexis was already out the door by now, and she shut it gently behind her. Now she had a coat, a weapon, and some vague semblance of a clue what to do.
All she had to do now was find the a piece of the Hylen.
And as she would soon discover, that was going to be very, very difficult.
