A Star's Descent: Book Two: Star Fall
By evolution-500
Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.
WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, mature and disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Curien's Lament
The tea tasted bitter in his mouth.
Raising up a napkin, Roy Curien gently wiped off his sculpted lips as he sat cross-legged in his seat, listening to the relaxing sounds of nature recordings. Of course, the man in white reflected, he supposed that he should be grateful for the fact that he were able to feel anything at all, especially in comparison to the hellish existence that his true body offered for him. At least he was able to eat, drink and sleep in this state.
He watched as his servant, a tall giant of a man wearing a long red coat with a hood approached with a food tray in hand, his face concealed by a white featureless steel mask.
"Your breakfast, Lord Curien," the giant murmured as he set the tray down on the table.
"Thank you, Twenty-Six," Curien replied as he took some toast.
Straightening himself up, Twenty-Six folded his arms behind him, his form rigid, standing on alert for hostiles.
"Is the tea to your satisfaction?" he asked in an emotionless voice.
"It is acceptable. We'll have to stop by and get a fresh batch of milk later, however. We're completely out." Curien then started to spread butter with his knife. "What is the status regarding the dimensional anomalies?"
"We checked the equipment. From all accounts, it should be stable."
"Are you sure?" Curien said with an edge in his voice. "I found several subjects from different timelines and realities together along with a number of fused locations." He turned with narrowed eyes to Twenty-Six. "You know what is at stake here, Twenty-Six. You know of the potential hazard this represents."
"I am aware, my lord."
"I do not want a repeat of history, do you understand?"
"You have nothing to fear, Lord Curien," Twenty-Six shook his cloaked head solemnly. "We have been thorough in our examinations. All the readings have been normal. No anomalies have been detected, nor is there any likelihood of there being any repetition."
Curien kept his sunglasses-concealed eyes locked on the towering servant, then nodded slowly. "Good." Looking away, he resumed his breakfast. "Have you been able to locate Tower yet?"
"I'm afraid not, my lord. We suspect that it may have burrowed into the caverns, if not the guardhouse."
"Hm." He bit into the toast. "Send Hanged Man to those locations. I want it found as soon as possible."
Twenty-Six nodded in compliance. "As you wish, my lord."
"And what of the Magician?"
"We're doing everything we can to locate him, sir," Twenty-Six replied. "He is evasive, but it is apparent that the Magician is trying to find a new host body for himself. A lot of the subjects are displaying symptoms consistent with his influence such as hallucinations, disorientation and flimsy motor control, so we're keeping a close watch."
Curien continued chewing. "Anyone specific?" he asked between mouthfuls, swallowing before taking a sip from his tea.
"A number of individuals. In fact, he has them all caged together in a crypt behind the Spencer Estate."
The scientist paused mid-sip, drawing the cup away as he looked up interestedly. Raising a hand to his chin, the man in white pondered. "Hm. So, the little shit hasn't taken possession already? Perhaps he's still trying to break them down as he usually does before claiming a host." He stopped mid-stroke. "Of course," the man in white said slowly, "it is possible this could all be a diversion, to distract us from whatever the hell he is up to."
His servant nodded in agreement. "It is possible, my lord. He has been showing keen interest on the prime target."
Curien frowned. "I was afraid of that." A smirk crawled up one corner of his mouth. "Arrogant little bastard, isn't he?"
The red-clad giant made no response as his master tilted his head back. Letting out a tired groan, Curien despondently leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses as he massaged his temples and stared up at the ceiling.
"Tell me, Twenty-Six," he began, "...do you think this reality will turn out like the others? Like ours?"
Twenty-Six moved his masked face to the side, considering it. "...It's possible, my lord," he answered truthfully. "From the evidence we were able to attain from your hacking the various satellites, international networks and files...there are no shortage of corporate and governmental bodies creating creatures similar to our own. There are no shortage of terrorist organizations, political figures, militias and movements who would in all likelihood find some use for these creatures, for these viruses."
Curien's mouth tightened. Clicking his tongue in his mouth, he exhaled.
"That is true," he grunted bitterly. "...I was hoping for a different answer."
In a number of ways, this world very much resembled his own. Too much for his own liking. At least, back then. Curien couldn't help feeling frustrated with what he was seeing. A world very much like his own, albeit with slight differences here and there, and yet here again was evidence of greed and corruption at work.
He shook his head wearily. Was he destined to see the same thing happen over and over again?
The fall of his own world was due to no shortage of issues and complications, greed, ambition and corruption being some of the most prominent, and yet here again, those same ugly heads were rearing up again like Tower's serpentine necks from out of the ground. Once again, he was confronted with people like Thornheart and Goldman. People that wouldn't know the value of a human life, even if it bit them in the ass. People that recklessly endangered the world for the sake of ambition, looking to impart their fanatical, power-hungry ideologies and dogmas while also pursuing the all-powerful dollar at the end of the blood-soaked rainbow.
His hand squeezed on the handle of his tea cup.
A world with so much potential...yet one that precariously rested on a knife's edge, at the mercy of such dangerous people.
Curling his mouth angrily, Curien shook his head in disgust and dismay.
One could almost say that misanthropy was woefully underrated. How was it possible for a species gifted with knowledge and the ability to create to be so hopelessly blind, reckless and stupid? Even without the danger posed by the Magician or the endless pools of creatures and undead that haunted Curien's world that threatened to spill into theirs, humanity always wavered between strides of greatness and absolute oblivion at a moment's notice.
A dark thought crossed his mind.
...Was it...possible...that humanity was...fated to end up this way?
Curien's face darkened as he stared down at the table.
No. He refused to believe such a thing. Yes, they were a species capable of unspeakable cruelty and evil, but by the same token, they were a species with a great deal of merit. Even more, regardless of their flaws, no-one deserved a miserable fate such as this.
Thinking of the state of his world, Curien felt his shoulders slacken.
"Lord Curien?" Twenty-Six said uncertainly.
Raising up his eyes, the man in white stared up at the ceiling. "Tell me, Twenty-Six...do you believe in salvation? Do you think there will ever be an end to all this?"
The servant said nothing, as if uncertain as to whether or not he should answer.
Curien scoffed, then shook his head dismissively.
Of course Twenty-Six wouldn't know how to respond - he has never had what one would call a "normal" upbringing, let alone that type of education of all things, in the first place; education for the Type-0001s were mainly based on practicality, although there were slight exceptions here and there for Curien's benefit. Very little of it ever delved into the theological or philosophical, so how on earth could he possibly answer that question? In a lot of respects, the Type-0001s were very capable and efficient, the ideal servants and soldiers - all they understood was duty and loyalty. It was what they were bred for. They might look human, but behaviorally they were more like dogs. Machines.
At least...that's how Curien himself preferred to view them, how he would like them to behave. It made things so much easier and manageable to view them as such, especially given the tasks he had them perform, the things he had to do to them for the sake of his research. For the sake of humanity.
Exhaling slowly, the man in white quietly contemplated what the Type-0001s had to go through on a daily basis, the things he put them all through. Were they human, Curien would have wept for them.
Thankfully, though, they weren't.
He faltered.
And yet...his research has proven that it was theoretically possible for them...or at the very least, a few of them, to live normal lives...
Lowering his eyes back to Twenty-Six, Curien watched his servant carefully, his hawkish eyes missing nothing.
Was it possible that he was-
'No,' Curien quickly caught himself, denying such a thing. The Type-0001s were machines. Soulless killers. Mindless slaves. Monsters. Nothing more.
Even if they were more than meets the eye...he couldn't allow himself to be so sentimental. Not now, not at such a critical moment. Project Euridice was at a critical juncture - everything hinged on it succeeding, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not with trillions of lives and God knew how many worlds and realities were on the line. Not with his son Daniel's life and soul at stake.
Grabbing a napkin, he proceeded to wipe his mouth, then placed it on the plate.
"Take this away," Curien said briskly as he got up from his seat. "I have work to do."
Stepping through an airlock, the man in white stripped out of his white garments, carefully placing them into a bin located on the wall. Once finished, he waited as the room was sealed shut, waited as the vents poured solvents and cleaning chemicals into the room. Keeping his eyes and mouth shut, Curien ignored the tingling burning sensation on his skin and the smell, turning his thoughts over to his predicament.
Ever since that fateful day, things have been falling apart. The AMS may have tried their best to ensure that what happened would not happen elsewhere, but it was all for naught as little by little the world crumbled all around them. Thanks to their ignorance and interference, along with Goldman's, humanity has completely fallen, and in their place, monsters walked and lay waste to everything around them, including each other.
Even worse, Curien himself had unwittingly allowed this insanity to repeat itself over and over again on other worlds, other timelines, other realities.
So many worlds...
Lowering his eyes guiltily, Curien shook his head with disgust at what his life had become, at what he had wrought onto the universe. Well, universes.
Who would have thought that his quest to save his child would amount to this?
The day he beheld his newborn son, cradling him in his arms, Curien had not ever once thought that the perpetual horror and madness that surrounded him on a daily basis now would be his legacy.
As he contemplated bitterly the consequences of meeting Goldman and Thornheart, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
What if he were to just say "fuck it"?
It was such a tantalizing prospect, so utterly tempting, especially given the circumstances of his present situation. Part of him wanted to find someplace to hide, to flee from this accursed mansion, from this reality and start over. After all, what was there to live for? Even if he found a cure, so many worlds and realities have been infected and claimed by the Magician that there was no way he could save everyone, no matter how much he wanted to! Even Goldman in his current state agreed that the chances of success were extremely low.
Roy stared up at the ceiling, his body and hair soaked with chemicals.
Maybe he should abandon this foolish endeavor once and for all, start over! Start a new life, have a new family!
Curien faltered. Family...
It was such an appealing idea. He wanted nothing more than to stop...but...he couldn't. Not only for his son Daniel's sake...but for sake of the trillions of other families that were destroyed by the Magician. Even if he decided to flee, what would stop it from spreading its influence? What would stop it from repeating the same cycle over and over again on other worlds as it had done before? Left unchecked, the Magician would grow even more powerful, even more dangerous, and that was not something he would allow for.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Curien sharply inhaled, his mind and body exhausted and troubled.
Once decontamination was finished and the doors opened, he stepped into the next room naked, approaching a catwalk with a raised platform with a spotlight directly pointing down at it at the very end from a stalactite-covered ceiling. Climbing up the steps, Curien felt the cool steel pressing against the soles of his feet, the damp cool air hitting his naked muscular form. As he stepped onto the platform, he approached a large pillar with three bodies that were all strapped to operating tables, the tables themselves slightly raised at a slant, with each body hanging from each side of the pillar like fresh laundry. Long stretches of cables snaked and looped around the pillar, pooling down to the floor and over the sides of the platform while generators hummed nearby. Monitors and hard drives flashed and whirred, showing long stretches of data for each body. Inspecting the monitors, Curien studied the figures.
Good, they were all stable. At least he wouldn't have to worry about replacing them.
Yet.
Turning his attention away from the monitors, Curien looked back to the pillar. Standing beside an unoccupied space of the pillar and lowered operating table was Twenty-Six as he checked the EKG machine, a tray of needles and various medical equipment positioned right beside.
"The equipment is ready, Lord Curien," Twenty-Six said as he turned to face him. "Will you be needing assistance?"
"I'll be fine," Curien said firmly, moving toward the tray. Grabbing a catheter, his jaw shifted anxiously. Pouring out some gel from a bottle, he smeared it on the apparatus, staring at it with disdain. He always hated this part. Alas, such was the price for mind transference and occupying a body for so long.
Taking several quick and short breaths, Curien braced himself as he lowered the catheter, wincing in discomfort as he inserted it all the way into his organ. Groaning, he exhaled, letting out a deep-chested growl.
"Are you alright, my lord?"
"I'm fine!" Curien snapped. "Hand me the hose."
He watched as the servant handed him a long black hose that was about as thick and as long as a vacuum cleaner hose.
Inhaling again, Curien raised his eyes to the ceiling, wincing as he inserted it up into the other orifice. A moment of discomfort, and then it was done.
Exhaling, Curien leaned back onto the table, watching and waiting as Twenty-Six strapped him to the table and inserted the various plugs onto his head, arms and chest, inserting an IV drip into his wrist. He heard the EKG machine running, the blips measuring his heart rate as the servant studied it carefully.
"Your body is in perfect health, my lord," Twenty-Six nodded in assurance.
"Good. Take care of it while I continue to work," Curien instructed.
"Yes, master. It shall be done."
Resting his head against the operating table, Curien closed his eyes as he felt the table whirred, positioning him upright.
As he felt the cool air hit his skin and heard the beeps of the EKG, Curien felt himself being pulled away from his own body.
Electric white eyes opened.
Unfurling from a fetal position, he rose up from his perch, his chrome chassis glinting as holograms flickered back on, flashing with data as a spiked wheel rose up and circled around his metallic humanoid form, the air rippling with electricity.
Looking down at his metallic clawed hands again, he dispassionately regarded everything around him as the machinery whirled in acknowledgement, singing a mechanical hymn to their re-awakened "god".
Testing his hands, he clenched and unclenched his clawed hands, watching as the cavernous paneled chamber rippled with ones and zeroes.
Letting out a low, rumbling mechanical growl that reverberated through the chamber, the mechanical entity wearily glanced around.
Even though he had enjoyed some much, much needed relief in a human body, it was all-too tragically brief for his liking. He was thankful that the wheel siphoned off the extra data and prevented a complete overload, at the very least minimizing the strain on his mind, but it's barely enough. No longer was he alone in his thoughts. Now he had the voices of millions of computers and networks in his head, a perpetual tidal wave of information that threatened to overwhelm his mind for all of perpetuity. With this transition from a flesh and blood mortal body to ersatz deity came another extra burden, one that he always despised each time he "awakened" - the haunting glimpses into infinity, the endless tapestry of space and time along with all of its variables unfolding before his very lenses.
Looking up at a stalactite, he watched as water slid down its rocky form. In thirty seconds, the water will pool together at its tip and drop down to the puddle below.
It was October 30, 1958. Curien's father, a robust man with grey hair and a thick beard in a matching grey suit, patted him on the shoulder as he studied.
"I see greatness within you, boy!" His father assured, giving Roy's shoulder a slight squeeze. "One day you will be the finest scientist in all of England."
It was March 1st, 2000. In an industrial complex in Arizona owned by the EFI Research Institute, a subsidiary of the long-defunct DBR Corporation, the first spark of consciousness started to emerge.
It was June 11, 1947. He was wailing loudly in the bedroom of Curien Mansion as his mother held him in her arms and gently wiped him clean with a towel, her forehead damp and covered in sweat while his father smiled proudly.
It was November 2nd, 2002. He was relearning how to read and write, trying to reorient himself in this new "body". To his frustration, progress had been slow. Still, he continued on.
It was December 18th, 1998. He was hunched over, grabbing his scalp along with handfuls of hair as he screamed in agony as he felt his presence, struggling to fight against it.
It was February, 1989. A woman with long, curly flowing brown hair was smiling at him as she walked down the aisle of the church with a bouquet of flowers in hand, her form looking angelic, her long white dress making it seem as if she were gliding toward him.
April 3rd, 2019. He was floating before his son as he stood there with a blonde woman by his side, the two of them armed with Franchi SPAS-12s. Electricity licked the air wildly, snapping and crackling like thunder.
"This is the world that you humans wanted..." he stated coldly. "The world is overpopulated. It has become overrun with those creatures. Even you must realize that!"
December 3rd, 2045. The water was now gathering at the bottom of the stalactite, growing thicker.
October 1st, 1991. He held up his newborn baby in amazement, trying to contain his tears.
November 4th, 1996. He was standing before Daniel's gravestone, his form numb. Collapsing to his knees, he shakily reached out to touch the lettering, his lips trembling out a whimper as he wept.
The water continued building toward the bottom, ready to drop.
October 1st, 1991. He was cradling his son in his arms, his eyes warm and wet as he lovingly kissed the baby's tiny forehead while his wife Lydia lay lifelessly in the bed.
September 2nd, 1996. He was standing in the cemetery of the Curien family estate with Daniel by his side, holding his hand as the two of them gently placed roses down beside Lydia's gravestone.
August 12th, 1992. He was at an office meeting a man named Goldman while an older man watched the two of them.
"Ah, Doctor Curien!" The man said as he shook his hand. "Thank you for coming! Please, sit down. This is my associate, Mr. Thornheart."
2045. Metallic hands clenched in anger, the air humming and crackling.
"Have you ever thought about the future?" Lydia's voice echoed.
"What do you mean?" Curien asked curiously.
October 1st, 1991. Lydia was looking up at him, sickly and pale.
"It's alright, darling," Curien quietly assured, wiping her sweaty face while a maid held the newborn baby. "Everything is going to be alright, my beloved."
Lydia shook her head as she wept, clutching his hands. Bringing them up to her lips, she kissed his knuckles, her brown eyes meeting his with a knowingness that he didn't like at all.
"Promise me."
December 18th, 1998. He cried out as the Magician threw a fireball in thanks, the blast striking him in the chest, the pawn no longer valuable in its game.
"Promise me that you will protect Daniel."
August 29th, 1996. Roy was screaming at the top of his lungs, grabbing handfuls of his own thick black hair in anguish as he doubled over and cried on his desk, the fateful letter about Daniel balled up in one hand, the hardest and loudest he ever had in his life.
"Promise me that-that you won't hate him." Lydia wept in a trembling voice.
"Lydia!" Roy gasped as he took his wife's hands and kissed them gently, "Do you really have that low an opinion of me?"
2019. The glass cylinder that kept him suspended smashed outward as his electric white eyes flickered on. The glass pieces froze mid-air, then drew inward, reconfigured as part of the spiked wheel. God had woken at last to set things right.
"I am Curien. I shall destroy this sickness and resurrect all of that which had been lost."
Roy pecked Lydia's forehead, not caring if her forehead was slick with sweat.
"You know I would never hate him, don't you?"
April 3rd, 2019. Daniel stood before him a grown man with a shotgun in hand, his face hard and angry, his heterochromatic eyes glaring at the abomination his father had become.
"Promise me that no harm will ever come to him," Lydia wept, her face pale. "Promise me you'll love him no matter what!"
Curien kissed her cheek, then her lips.
"You know that I will," he said quietly, holding her hand. "I will...always love and protect him. I swear on my life, Lydia, as long as I live, I will dedicate myself to loving him. Raising him. Being there for him no matter what. Even..." Roy faltered, swallowing, his eyes glassy, "even when he reaches adulthood and no longer needs me anymore..."
"You are not my father!" Daniel shouted as he fired his weapon, the blast catching Curien in the chest.
"Even...when he has children of his own...nothing is ever going to stop me from doing so. I love him, and I would sacrifice the world if it meant saving him. That I promise you, Lydia."
"Daniel...you need me..."
Seeing her smile one last time, Roy helplessly watched as life faded from Lydia's beautiful eyes, her hand going limp in his.
2045. The water droplet finally fell. Curien watched as it landed in the puddle at the bottom, the pool rippling at the impact. As it cleared, Roy watched as his image reflected back, revealing his monstrous metallic form, the geometric sun symbol glowing white hot on his chest.
Exhaling, the mechanical humanoid levitated upward. Once again he was drawn back to his hell, to this miserable Sisyphean existence that made up much of his "life". Once more he carried the burden of saving trillions. Project Euridice must continue, must succeed. Entire worlds depended upon it. Daniel's life depended on it, now more than ever.
Looking at the various holographic displays, he flickered through the images, studying the images from the hidden cameras within the Spencer estate.
Turning to one at a bottom left-hand corner, Curien paused at the sight of the helpless humans stuck in the crypt.
He saw a multitude of scenarios occurring, a dizzying maelstrom of images that highlighted their pasts, presents and futures.
In one scenario, the group turn on each other, resulting in them tearing themselves apart in a fit of madness. In another, they remain trapped until one by one they all start to drop like rats in a cage, with one or two resorting to... desperate measures...in order to stay alive. On and on the endless possibilities unfolded before Curien, each one grisly and grim. Of course, there were other possibilities where they were able to get out.
Roy hesitated.
Should he interfere?
He already had once before, out of necessity, but as a rule, he made it a point to never interfere with a given timeline. He had seen this exact same scenario play out in other variations, in other universes. To interfere with a given timeline could bring unforeseeable consequences, which in turn would threaten to compromise the integrity of Project Euridice.
Even worse, should they escape, they could interfere with Chariot's progress.
The mechanical being pondered his course of action. The rational part of Curien was telling him that it would be a mistake to release them, not when Chariot was in the midst of completing his objectives. And yet...the human part of him, the part that he valued most, that he desperately fought for, couldn't reconcile the notion of leaving them like caged animals, especially at the Magician's mercy.
Closing his eyes, Curien concentrated, shutting out the various scenarios before looking back to the screen. There would be consequences for what he was about to do, he had no doubt about that...but he was willing take responsibility for what would come.
"You will not die today. Not on this earth. Not if I can help it," he declared.
Raising a metallic hand, Curien concentrated.
Author's Note: Hope everyone had a good Christmas and a Happy New Year!