Mortanius hadn't mentioned it, but finding your was through the dreaded Black Forest of Termagent wasn't as difficult as everyone made out. The path was lit by what was known as the 'Ignis Fatuus', the path to Hell, a trail lit by human skulls mounted on posts with eerie green flames burning silently within the jaws of the all too familiar bone formation. What the Nosgothic people forgot to mention was that Termagent Forest was a swamp. If I got stuck out here. . . sure I could find my way back with the Ignis Fatuus, but I had a sudden horrifying sensation in the pit of my stomach that almost caused me to wretch when I realise that the pathway would be a perfect place for the monsters lurking in the shadows of Nosgoth to attack a human being. I think I didn't grasp until then as to how dangerous Nosgoth was. Humans were at the very bottom of the food chain, death could come at any moment and I was a Human fresh out of a society where there were no natural predators. How would I know what to do if something big and black with lots of legs jumped out on me and tried to suck my brains out? We're all as soft as shit; perfect prey for something used to stubborn, fit, healthy Humans that tended to put up a fight before they died. Other than the arms units we brought with us, all the researchers - though they mostly weren't fat disgusting slobs - probably couldn't face off a slobbering demon.
My god, what was I doing here? If I got a wheel stuck in the swamp soup of mud, weeds and scum floating stagnantly on the surface like a thick skin, then what happened next? I had a gun; a handgun, nothing impressive, just a .25, but that didn't put me at ease. .25 calibre guns could easily kill a Human if you hit them in the right place, but somehow a bullet from an average gun seemed redundant in the face of Vampires and Demons (the stories the Sarafan told made them out to be huge) and I seriously doubted that if I emptied a whole clip into a Vampire, it would be enough to kill one. Suddenly I felt chillingly exposed, all alone in the densely forested swamp with my tender Human soul burning brightly inside the easily shredded casing of my ludicrously weak flesh, undoubtedly a beacon to any ravenous demon with a flare for removing the flesh from the soul imprisoned within. At that moment I hadn't been so aware of my own life force before in my entire life. My breath, my heartbeat, my thoughts, all of it could be probed and examined by some kind of impossible creature dreamt up by the magic of this world. Magic was a far more sinister word that I had originally guessed. . .Maybe the only reason these things existed on Nosgoth and not Earth was because of the abundance of this previously undiscovered force.
The roar of the jeep engine tore through the dense forest like a deep throaty bellow. I didn't want to stop and leave myself open to attack, but I didn't want to keep such a noisy engine running either. I preyed that it wouldn't be too long before I caught up with those idiots before they got themselves killed-
- The radio crackled on the dashboard of the jeep and through it, I heard something that made me sick. Someone from the Raccoon City base was trying to contact me - from the distortion and the static that muffled his voice -
"John?" It was Mortanius. I really wasn't prepared for what happened afterwards. . . I really wasn't. . .
"What do you want?" I barked into the intercom, one hand fumbling with the radio and one with the wheel and my concentration split precariously between the rough terrain and the conversation.
"I'm sorry for abusing your trust, but they must be stopped."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"That 'Tyrant' project you were working on. The one kept dormant in the basement of the Mansion Lab the portal to Nosgoth was in. . ."
My blood ran icy cold. I begged god that he wasn't going to say what I though he was going to say….
"What have you done?"
"I used your security card to grant me access to the part of the laboratory that held it, and I released it. . ."
"You . . .. Oh god, please tell me this is a sick, sick fucking joke. . ." I swear my stomach turned. If you knew that killing machine like I did, you too would fall ill from terror. "Do you have any idea of what that thing is capable of! Why'd you do it!"
"The Researchers need to be stopped, John, and releasing their prized project would keep them occupied long enough to formulate some kind of counter attack to Moebius' plot."
"Yeah-with my fucking security card! They can kill me for this! Umbrella've murdered better scientists than me for absolutely nothing! I trusted you and"-
-Unfortunately, I was too focused on Mortanius' sickeningly selfish act of betrayal to evade the sturdy tree I was coming hard into, and in mere seconds there was a loud crash and I found myself propelled through the windscreen and into the stagnant slop of the forest 'floor'. At the speed I was going, if I had hit solid ground I don't think I might have survived, but landing face first in the foul smelling, rotten soup filled with reeds and muck and slime wasn't a fate much better than death. It was like being thrown in a squelchy, green, stinking sewer full of fucking shit and at that moment in time all I could think of was how much I hated that lying, two-faced, treacherous, back-stabbing son of a bitch Mortanius.
"ARRRGHH!" I screamed into the air with sheer frustration, slapping balled fists into the disgusting sludge I was sitting waist deep in. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, Mortanius!"-
-a bush close by rustled and I fell deathly silent, though the hatred towards Mortanius remained. If a big bastarding monster jumped out of there I was going to go utterly crazy; HE put me in this situation. HE betrayed me. Why did I listen to him? Why did I trust him even for a second? I never trust anyone, normally. . . It must have been those eyes of his. . . cataract over, it was as if the windows to his very soul had been obstructed from my view and as such I had no way of knowing what was going on inside that head of his. . .
The bush stopped moving when I focused my attention on it. Something was in there and not know what it was was driving me slowing insane. I couldn't stand being unenlightened. . . I smiled in relief to myself when I remembered I had placed the handgun inside my lab coat (there were straps and pockets for carrying surgical equipment on the inside of the coats for all the lab workers, but this was a far more inventive use for them), now stained a dirty greenish colour from the slime and snatched at it immediately, the heavy weight of the deadly machinery putting me at ease slightly, making me feel a hell of a lot less vulnerable than I felt moments before. I trained it on the bush, along with my vision. Someone was defiantly in there. It looked about the size of a man, but I didn't want to take my chances and go up to it to shake them out.
"I know someone's in there" I piped up, not wanting to beat about the bush (forgive the pun) "If you come out now with your hands up, I promise I wont hurt you." I wasn't expecting a response. I merely said that to make sure they knew that I knew they were there, so I was taken fair by surprise when a young woman scrambled out into view.
"Please. . . Do not harm me. . ." She pleaded, but from her weak and shaky tone of voice, she didn't much sound like she though it would comply. It was pretty strange to see a woman out here, especially considering the garb she wore: wait high boots, a strange half-skirt that left most of her flawless legs exposed, a white, sleeveless shirt-like cloth draped over her breast, though doing as little as possible to cover them entirely. She was flawlessly beautiful, with long, soft brown head held back by a red hair band. I found it odd that in his swampy place, not a spot of dirt had gotten on her flawless white outfit, but now was not the time to dwell on such details.
"I'm not gonna hurt you." I said as kindly as I could muster. "What are you doing out here?" She didn't reply, only looked down anxiously at her feet. "Okay, you don't have to tell me that, but at least could you tell me if you've seen any others like me? Men in white coats."
"There are others?" She looked up worriedly, fear filling her – what the hell – yellow eyes?
"You have yellow eyes. . ." I stated the obvious. She looked down again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Did you see any others like m"- but before I finished the sentence, I felt a dark and heavy presence behind me. There was no time to question how I could sense it, but I dived out of the way in time to narrowly avoid the swipe of a clawed fist. Now back half buried in the swamp sludge I could see my attacker. A man wearing similar clothing but on him it looked a lot less provocative.
"You will not harm her, mortal!" He yelled at me, then focused his attention on the nervous woman. "Sarjenka, you must not beg for the humans! Lord Vorador commands it!"
"Forgive me. . ."
"Vorador?" I spoke up. "You guys know that vampire?"
"Of course we do!" Spat the irate man down to me. "Every vampire knows Vorador!"
"Your vampires!" I jumped to my feet and wasted no time in training my gun on him. He gave my handgun a disgruntled look.
"See how he wields the strange weapons those who captured our Lord uses? He is defiantly in league with those strange new Sarafan!"
" 'Capture you Lord'?" I repeated. "You mean Rabbitson and the others actually succeeded!" I then picked up on the other half of what he had said. "Wow, wait; We're no Sarafan."
"You lie!" He spat without hesitation. "Lord Vorador saw one of your kind at the window of the Sarafan Stronghold!" Was he talking about me? I don't remember seeing anything. . .
"We're not Sarafan." I repeated. "We're just a bunch of scientists and we're only following orders"-
-"'Only following orders' is the scapegoat line of all murderers! In the eyes of bureaucracy, it may be your superiors that have committed the misdeed, but in the eyes of god, it was the man whom has the blood on his hands!"
"An ironic statement, coming from a vampire." I argued. The man paused.
"I haven't been a vampire all that long. . ." He explained. "There are still some aspects I have not yet mastered" He was unquestionably referring to his blood lust. "but know this, Sarafan! I am no demon - in fact - I feel the same now as I did as a human!"
"I'm not a god damn Sarafan!" I tried to explain again. This was like talking to a brick wall, and matters weren't helped by the fact that my stodgy clothes covered in slime were starting to chill my body to the very core of its' soul. Why did I believe they would listen? From what I've heard, these vampires – no – these people had been persecuted by humans all their life and they didn't seem all that different from us after all. . .
"You hunt vampires, don't you!" This nonsense again. . .
"I came here to stop the others!"
The man stepped forward, angrily, yet with a quizzical look in his golden eyes. "Ah, but you do not deny they are on the same side as you?"
"Those clowns are only following orders! It's nothing personal!"
" 'Following orders' " The man spat in disgust. "At least WE do not try to shroud our bloodlust in a veil of righteousness!"
" 'Bloodlust'? I repeated in bemusement. "We're just scientists!"
"And that justifies your abduction of our Lord?" He growled.
I decided to meet them halfway. "No, no it doesn't and that's why I'm here to stop them."
"Liar!"
"god. . . " Slowly, an idea formed in my head. I gradually sank down, placing my firearm on the waterlogged 'ground'. "Look, I'm lowering my weapon. If I was trying to hurt you, would I do a thing like that?"
. . . . . yeah . . . I probably shouldn't have done that. . . .
All I remember after dropping my weapon was a sharp and instant pang of pain on the back of my head, then blackness.
William Birkin was in the projector room of the Arklay Laboratory beneath the hidden Mansion deep in the Raccoon Forest that boarded Raccoon City when the alarm system of the labs first blared into soul splitting sound. What was he doing in there? I didn't know this at the time, but he was examining an artefact he had 'recovered' from Nosgoth, and by recovered I mean stolen. William was no ignorant fool. He accepted what he saw – no matter how mind bending it was – because he believed that no matter how bizarre it might seem, striving to understand how it was possible and not blatantly refusing to accept it had happened was the only option he could choose. He had snooped around the Sarafan Stronghold a lot more than any of the Nosgothic inhabitants had cared to realise.
They saw his lab coat and assumed him another of those men that could watch the casting of an honest-to-god spell itself and still deny the existence of magic. William had used this veil of ignorance to his full advantage in order to do some major snooping around, and he must have been damn good at it, too if he had ended up with the artefact he had with him now.
It was Moebiuses hourglass. Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you until I explain to you the significance of this artefact. The nine Pillars of Nosgoth that protect and uphold the land were originally made by vampires. Vampires are magical creatures by their very nature and so did a good job of upholding the laws the Pillar represented. The Pillars – however – had fallen under the guardianship of humans (Pillar guardians are appointed at birth and vampires are no longer born, but transformed from humans) and as you know full well, we humans are not supernatural beings capable of mustering the kind of spells they are required to wield as a Pillar Guardian. Thus, each Pillar had an artefact that acted as a moderator of magical energy between the Pillar and its Guardian. What this means is that though the artefact is worthless in the hands of an ordinary human, it was the source of power for whatever Guardian it was assigned to.
William was no fool. He had heard of this and decided to explore further, taking Moebiuses hourglass for his own research purposes. The primitive common folk of Nosgoth may not be able to unlock its secrets, but surely a learned scientist could find a way of hacking into the power of the Pillar Moebius represented. The hourglass wasn't under any heavy guard when William had found it high up in a tower deep within the Stronghold, assumingly because the Sarafan Stronghold itself was an impregnable fortress so there was little point to monitor it (and apparently it hadn't occurred to the Nosgothic inhabitants to tighten security of that room with the researchers running around) so snatching it had been Childs play.
William had only just managed to secret it away to the projector room when the sirens burst out their defending hymn. William stashed the hourglass away in a draw by the intercom, which he promptly used.
"What the hell is going on? What tripped the alarm?" He barked into it. No reply. He tried again. "If I find out you've been sleeping on the job again, I'll have you fired this time!" Still no reply. Odd. That usually livened them up.
Rapidly losing his patience over the incompetence of others - as always – William wasted no time is bursting out of the projector room and marching his way down the corridors as he had done so many times before-
-only he stopped dead in his tracks when the lab alarm ceased abruptly. The alarm had been harsh and soul shattering but strangely enough, this eerie dead silence was far more unnerving. There was something primordially comforting about white noise like that, and with it no longer there to mask his movements William felt horribly exposed.
He caught himself wishing this was a sick joke being played on him by security, and hoped he hadn't, as in the movies, thinking like that often resulted in an ironic death.
The door to the projected room clicked. That was a lock. He was locked out. What the hell was going on?
Footsteps. He could hear footsteps approaching. Defiantly human; William had been in the company long enough to know what his creations sounding like when approaching a target, so he could relax a little; it meant that whoever did this hadn't – for whatever reason - released the MA-121's or 'Hunters' as they were known because if they had, an unarmed scientists like him with no place to run would be proper fucked. But it didn't sound like a scientist. It didn't sound like shoes or sneakers. . . William stayed stock still, waiting for whoever it was to round the corner into his view-
- Red robes and two shoulder spikes. He recognised that look instantly.
"Mortanius!" He barked. The Necromancers head flicked up from concentrating on – whatever it was in his hands, black metal clearly giving it away as a device from our world. He pointed it at William. "Hey!" He said, instinctively raising his palms. "That's my gun!"
Indeed, it was William's handgun; a no frills Browning – the same make as the Raccoon Police Department used, no less. Mortanius had been loading it when he bumped into William. Fortunately for Mortanius but not for William, the scientist wasn't too good with weapons so had chosen a fairly idiot proof gun. For a moment, all William could so was smirk a little at the view he was given: 'Staring down the barrel of a modern killing machine being wielded by an ancient Necromancer.' It was poetic.
"We have pistols in my world," Cautioned Mortanius. "Though with the extent of my power I have little use for one."
"Then why are you using one now?" Said William, trying his best not to sound smart-alecky and failing.
"My power wanes in this world."
"Fair enough."
There was a moment of awkward stalemate.
"What are you doing here?" Asked William.
"John sent me to look for you." Told Mortanius. "Though I am afraid I have betrayed his trust. . ."
"What do you mean?"
As if some divine force had heard him, William was met with a gradual answer.
There was a sound in the distance and yet the fact that it could be heard at all made it all too close for comfort.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It wasn't footsteps.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Those could be heard later.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"The Tyrant!" Hissed William through clenched teeth.
The ultimate result of our T-virus research, the T-002, or Tyrant was considered by many of our men to be the perfect life form. It knew no remorse or pity. It knew no hunger or pain. It never tired. It never stopped. It resembled a man and yet it looked nothing like one. Easily over seven foot tall, it was a distorted blasphemy of what had once been a man. It had grey 'skin' -if it's rough outer layer could truly be called a skin- with red veins running rough it, intersecting at two points; its massively and perversely distorted left appendage that resembles a mess of claws, and its bulbous, external heart.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It drew close enough to hear the heavy, relentless pounding of its feet, not that it was stomping, but under the seer weight of its diamond hard muscle it had no choice but to stomp everywhere it went.
"Why did you let it out!" Yelled William, managing to behave surprisingly authoritive despite being on the business end of a loaded weapon.
"It was my trump card." Mortanius confessed as quickly as he could, considering what was heading this way. "To release the most powerful of your creations and to lure it into our world so that you and your associates would be too busy trying to capture it to interfere with my world." So that's why the projector room door had locked; he had accessed the security room and locked down every door except a direct route to the portal. "I stole John's clearance card to do it." Mortanius lowered his weapon. "If you wish to live then you and I must make it to the portal before your little creature does." William nodded in agreement and followed him. There would be plenty of time to argue when they weren't on the flight plan of the ultimate killing beast.
