Bound by Sins of the Past

by Hellraptor

Two years after surviving the events that had bound their fates together, Ethan and Bela are living in different corners of the world. Their newfound peaceful lives are about to be shattered by a mutual foe, bringing them together once again. This is a sequel to my previous story, An Act of Kindness. Slow burn Bela/Ethan, with plenty of violent action and hurt/comfort scenes.

35. and the Harder We Fall

Author's Note:

This will be a VERY large and heavily combat-oriented chapter, with lots of depictions of graphic violence and bodily harm.

Chapter breaks will serve as a perspective/location change, but for convenience sake I've also added timestamps/location to each segment's start. The segments will not go in chronological order and the most important timeline part is 11:00 when the lights went out and 11:02, when the first shot was fired.

---

Conference Room - First Floor | 11:00 PM.

It took Chris two seconds to realize that something was really wrong after the lights had died down. Two seconds was the period it took for the backup generator every B.S.A.A. safehouse was equipped with to kick in after the loss of primary power - something that just did not happen now.

Briskly moving into the living room, with Leon and James following close-by, Chris had to illuminate the path with his smartphone's flashlight. Several more tense faces were there to greet him with silent apprehension - most of the Hound Wolf squad, as well as Cassandra Dimitrescu and Jill Valentine.

The veteran captain did not waste a second further - barking orders left and right. Time was of the essence.

"Get into your gear! Night Howl - prepare the bird for take off! Lobo and Canine - reinforce the main entrance! Umber Eyes - barricade the rear one! Jill - check on that goddamn generator! Leon - get in touch with the Deltas."

Against all odds, Cassandra and Dion apparently had still been at their damn game before the lights went out - with the rest present as their observers. While Cassandra merely gaped around with morbid curiosity - eventually settling to stare at Chris' face, the well-trained agents got back into their combat mode - quickly putting on their vests and checking their guns - which never quite left their sides, even during the last, relatively peaceful, twenty-four hours. Only the heavier weaponry such as Rolando's sniper rifle or John's grenade launcher were left behind in their aircraft… a costly mistake, it was starting to appear.

As the Hound Wolves prepared for combat, Leon checked his own pistol, before contacting the commander of his military escort - who were patrolling the grounds outside the villa. Thankfully, the radio was working just fine. "Holiday, report."

Douglas Holiday was a veteran of multiple military campaigns; a reliable if crass man with more than one successfully completed clandestine operation under his belt.

So when even this professional of the highest caliber had a hint of apprehension in his voice, Leon understood the depth of the mire he got bogged in this time. The comfy leather grip of his sidearm provided some reassurance to his tense fingers.

"We've got multiple motion sensors tripped at the perimeter but no visuals - so far."

Chris felt his muscles tensing, as he heard the radioed report while clicking the safety off on his Dragoon assault rifle. They were in for a fight of their lives… Satisfied with his weapon's combat-ready state, the captain glanced at departing forms of Charlie and Jill. If the enemy was what he thought they were, their jobs would be the most vital.

"Fuck…"

James Sallow was the one who let out a word they were all thinking about. The plain-looking defector warily glanced around the darkened room, with only flashlights to reveal the faces of his newest comrades.

In the doorway that led the upper floor staircase stood that unassuming female servant his newest companions brought along. James never paid her any mind before, but now - as their gazes connected - he could not suppress a shiver of fright at the vicious leer the normally kind-faced girl was throwing his way. Her thin lips moved without speaking, and James' blood chilled in his veins as he read them.

You're a dead man, traitor.

Nobody else was even looking at the servant - as their own gazes were firmly locked towards windows - expecting the threat to come from the outside, when in reality it was here all along.

As if feeling the end drawing near, a wave of regret had flooded James' mind. Regret for joining the Connections in the first place. Regret for having participated in - sometimes directly overseeing - so many distasteful operations. Regret for looking for a way out - even when his rational mind screamed at him that it was just not realistic.

Conviction, however, was the last thought that crossed the man's mind. After living a selfish life - never caring about anyone who got hurt, as long as he got what he wanted; his latest act of defiance might yet make the difference that will brighten that dark world of theirs, even a little bit. The information he had provided already was bound to reach someone, somewhere. Perhaps, that's all it would take.

The last thing James Sallow saw was that servant moving her delicate index finger across her throat. An obvious threat that he had no time to ponder upon.

He did not hear the end of his life, nor did he feel any pain. James merely ceased to exist, in one, singular instant.

---

Living Room - First Floor | 10:59 PM.

Dion Wilson proved to be a resilient adversary, but Cassandra Dimitrescu was sure that she was going to get him this round. His no-doubt delicious, youthful man-blood was going to be hers! Therefore, Cassandra was not amused when the darkness interrupted her ongoing card game.

"Fucking hell!"

Soon after, when Chris came out of the conference room, with his face illuminated by some errant smartphone's flashlight, Cassandra was glad that her mom was in a different part of the house and could not see her middle child being visibly aroused by the man's dominating presence as he barked out orders.

As everyone else scrambled to get prepared for whatever confrontation awaited, Cassandra could not stop gazing at the object of her affection. That handsome, chiseled face of his. These powerful hands that felt so good on her skin. That unyielding, rock-hard willpower and endless determination of his.

I am gonna ride you so fucking hard you'll have no choice but to scream my name, Chris.

As the lusty brunette had such thoughts running through her head, a couple of her errant fingers started edging towards her nether regions. What happened next, however, temporarily replaced her raging libido with no less passionate sadistic glee.

Cassandra could only gape as the defector - that filthy, traitorous little rat - which she fully intended on killing herself at some point - bursted apart in a misty cloud of his own blood. A deafening noise that sounded like a high-pitched scream followed in the next instant.

As the bloody mist swiftly settled down, Cassandra stared in astonishment at the spot James Sallow occupied several moments ago. Nothing but a smear of blood remained there.

"SNIPER! GET THE FUCK DOWN!"

Chris' powerful body slammed hard against her own, bringing them both to the floor - and not a moment too soon, as the space Cassandra herself occupied just a second ago was pierced by a bright lance of bluish light, which was immediately followed by that same shrill shriek.

Fluttering her eyelashes at the man that was on top of her, Cassandra was quick to realize that Chris Redfield had likely just saved her life. She never wanted to bang him as hard as now. Nibbling on her lower lip in unsatisfied desire, the wicked Dimitrescu daughter knew that such things would have to wait. There was blood to be spilled - a prospect that was only moderately less appealing to the sadist than her mounting the formidable B.S.A.A. captain.

As the large man crawled off of her, the pair carefully edged towards the window, even as Leon tossed Chris his Dragoon assault rifle. Chaotic gunfire that soon erupted all over the villa grounds indicated that the sniper was not alone - far from it.

Using his smartphone's camera, Chris was quick to locate James' murderer, without exposing himself to such a lethal weapon.

The sniper was located on a small hill overlooking the villa and he was carefully concealing himself behind a large oak tree, while taking potshots at whatever target was available. The bulky gun he held promised nothing but instantaneous death as it let loose bright spears of light and high-pitched shrieks.

"Type-7 particle weapon… I thought it was still in its prototype stage…" Leon quietly murmured, with Chris scoffing in response, "maybe they want to field-test it on us, huh?"

"I'll get him!" Cassandra quickly and fearlessly volunteered, as Chris' camera showed the sniper obliterating one of Leon's military escorts outside the villa - making both hardened men shiver in impotent rage at the callous murder committed.

Chris appeared to have conflicting feelings at the offered solution, yet since the alternative was not there to present itself - conceded with a nod. Before Cassandra could stand up to morph into her swarm form however, Chris slammed his lips against her own in a swift but passionate kiss that made her long for more. So much more.

Gently caressing her cheek with his rough thumb, the man whispered something distinctly unromantic, yet it made the woman's black heart beat ever so faster, nevertheless.

"Be careful and do not toy around with him - this weapon was designed to utterly eradicate organic material on contact - a perfect B.O.W. killer. Even a glancing hit could be lethal. Don't take any chances. I'll try to provide some covering fire as you approach him."

Providing covering fire from a single direction, against a distant target which was armed with a dedicated long-range weapon was a risky endeavour, especially with nothing but his mid-range assault rifle - Cassandra's tactical mind understood as much.

He is risking it for me… He wants me to stay safe… does he really care about me?

Suppressing the unwelcome tears that threatened to burst forth from her tough exterior, the woman let out a scoff, instead.

"Worry about yourself, soldier-boy. I eat freaks like him for breakfast. Literally, heh."

Not wanting the man to see her softer facial reaction, as weakness was still something Cassandra could not easily abide, the woman dispersed into her swarm form - which then swiftly fluttered outside and towards the sniper.

Flying towards her target, a certain kind of madness was bubbling to the surface. The chaos, blood, and bodies underneath Cassandra transported her back to the days where her mother had set her loose on a hunt. Life was so simple back then, running through the woods as she caught her prey and violently carved her initials into miserable humans. The present may not be in rural Romania, and her prey may not be defenseless men who had attempted to steal from her castle, but the sharp tang in the air and the rush was all the same. Her sisters might despair at the thought of yet more death and destruction, but this was her forte. As she watched another body drop below, the euphoria was starting to drag her into a high.

About half-way towards the hill, Cassandra's keen flies managed to get a good look at her target. Combat boots and black-red fatigues were worn underneath heavy body armor, with no identifying features of any kind. A menacing helmet offered a degree of protection for the sniper's head and it curiously resembled a weird hockey mask to Cassandra's mind. Finally, a large, bulky gun was held with practiced ease, as he fired it again and again.

Suddenly, the sniper swirled to face the approaching swarm. Somehow, even through the darkness of the night, he was able to perceive the incoming threat and was about to act accordingly - by shooting his no-doubt deadly weapon right at her tightly-clustered insects.

A barrage of gunfire from the villa was the only thing that forced the sniper to redirect his attention back to Chris. As lances of bright light shot past her swarm, Cassandra egged her bugs to fly ever faster, desperate to finally close the distance. Each single shot the sniper made could've been potentially lethal to the large captain and Cassandra found the very thought abhorrent to her mind.

To her amazement, several assault rifle rounds actually found their mark in their target - a testament to Chris' own prodigious marksmanship talents, yet at that distance, the sniper's armor was more than sufficient to stop them fully. Nevertheless, it forced the masked man to hide behind his tree, allowing Cassandra to ultimately reach the small hill unharmed.

Coalescing back to her human shape, the fierce woman did not hesitate to strike at her target with her ever-present sickle, even before her once-again solid feet touched the ground. Surprising the brunette vampire, the sniper had reacted with incredible speed and dexterity - easily dodging the initial attack, as well as several follow-up swipes. Licking her black lips at the prospect of yet another worthy foe to vanquish, Cassandra gave out a taunting, "You're tonight's main dish" even as she took in her opponent wholly.

The strange invader cut an intimidating figure up close, with his creepy-ass mask and dark-red fatigues. If he was impressed with her boisterous taunt or decidedly inhuman swarm shapeshifting, he did a good job of concealing it.

Instead, with a lightning-fast motion, he leapt backwards as he brought his deadly gun up - handling the bulky weapon with astonishing ease. With but a moment to spare, Cassandra rushed sideways, dodging the deadly beam by mere inches. Unnerved by the fact that the sniper was able to shoot his gun with remarkable proficiency even in such close quarters and now genuinely afraid for her life, the woman pressed her assault hard - not giving him a chance for another shot.

With peerless ferocity, the brunette Dimitrescu unleashed a barrage of bladework that would've saw a lesser opponent cut to ribbons several times over, yet her opponent silently dodged most of her strikes; using his bulky gun as a impromptu shield against the ones he couldn't.

Nevertheless, with the lives of people she loved possibly on the line, Cassandra was more relentless than ever as she pressed the attack, not letting the man even a moment to recover or even a single opportunity to fight back. However, despite giving it her all, she found herself unable to break the man's unyielding guard with her traditional onslaught; but that only inspired her to find an unorthodox solution - which quickly presented itself as her keen eyes caught a freshly-polished feature.

With a thrusting feint of her dagger, the brunette used the opening to hook her sickle into a small hole that was present in the weapon's side, before pulling it back - with all of her formidable strength.

Unable to oppose the vampire's superior power, the soldier let the weapon go, yet in that same motion a compact but no-doubt dangerous shock baton found its way into his hands, making Dimitrescu's right eye widen in annoyance.

"Sheesh, does everyone have these nowadays?"

"It's an adequate melee weapon with a multipurpose functionality."

Cassandra found herself genuinely surprised that the faceless mook actually responded to her rhetorical question, especially since the aforementioned response was delivered in a calm, monotone voice.

Surprise gave way to thrill as the masked soldier went on the offensive, using his electrified weapon with no small amount of skill, which was further underlined by his almost inhuman speed and reflexes. Whoever these goons were, they were a definite step above the previous mercs and guards Cassandra had faced - and slaughtered.

Throwing her looted weapon away - for just a moment, as Cassandra was determined to retrieve the beautiful gun after dispatching this foe - the wicked Dimitrescu sibling could finally enjoy the beautiful dance that only an honest melee combat to the death could provide.

And what a glorious dance this was, as her opponent for this night matched her move for move, giving no ground! While Cassandra was a bit faster and stronger, her opponent appeared to have superior reflexes, in addition to possessing an advanced melee weapon that prevented the vicious middle child from performing successful blocks or parries. Overall, however, they appeared to be so perfectly matched, that after almost a full minute of bedazzling back-and-forth neither of them spotted even a single injury.

While Cassandra could find endless glee in such a violent activity on an ordinary day, the strategic part of her mind reminded her of a harsh truth.

They came here with an overwhelming force… Every second I am wasting with this clown is a second I could've been evening out the odds...or helping my family.

Now resolved to best this challenger in a swift manner, Cassandra considered her next move, even as she dodged a particularly vicious swing of the shock baton, with her hairs straightening up from the electrostatic effects; yet her mind worked just as furiously as her hands swinged her bladed weaponry.

Outlasting him will take too long… Can't use my swarm directly - not with his clearly-reinforced under armor suit covering his body fully…

Barely avoiding a masterfully-executed feint with a deadly follow-up, Cassandra's keen eyes fell upon the soldier's combat belt. An inspiration was quick to flash at the sight of a familiar spherical device the three sisters had happened to discuss a couple of days ago. Bela's little theory about a possible use of their swarm form against an adversary armed with these could be put to a test.

With a smirk, Cassandra was set on her course, yet to pull that particular move successfully, she had to distract the keen and no-doubt perceptive sniper - if he could spot her black insect swarm in the dead of night, he must've been eagle-eyed, indeed. And what better distraction was there than taking a hit?

Trusting in her mold-enhanced body to be able take a single blow, Cassandra masterfully faked falling for the next feint the commando performed and receiving the following blow to her ribs.

Gritting her teeth from quite paralyzing pain that was now racking throughout her torso, Cassandra tumbled to the ground, even as a couple of her more agile flies quietly detached from her left fingertips.

Barely able to roll out from the next blow coming her way from the relentless foe who smelled blood, Cassandra had to struggle to regain her footing as electricity still ravaged parts of her nervous system. Nevertheless, recovering most of her bearing, the brunette leaped away from the soldier in her understandable hurry to gain some distance from the unfortunate commando who was about to meet a fiery demise.

Giggling in dark mirth as her agile flies returned - bearing a gift, Cassandra could not help herself but let out one last quip for her adversary, even as she dangled the item in question.

"Oh, is this yours?"

Seeing a circular item that suspiciously looked like a pin to one of his grenades - in her playful fingers, the realization of his impending demise was quick to dawn upon the doomed man.

"Shi.."

Even his final word started as a boring monotone, but ended with quite a bang. At the glorious sight of carnage she perpetrated with her cunning, Cassandra let out a loud, hearty laugh, even as gory bits and droplets of blood rained down - a couple of them falling close to her mouth - with her hungry tongue quick to gobble them up...

...only to promptly spat them out as the revolting taste forced the vomit reflex. The vanquished foe's vital fluids were almost akin to motor oil - which she had tasted, thanks to one of Daniela's stupid pranks. "Yuck…"

Not wasting too much precious time on such frivolous things, however, the brunette was quick to grab the discarded energy weapon - in a bid to even out the odds for her side.

Despite its clearly advanced make, it did not appear overly complex to use. Hastily getting a hang of the weapon, Cassandra took a moment to get acquainted with the digital scope the gun was equipped with. Whistling in appreciation of the level of magnification as well as the quality of detail, Cassandra swiftly took in the battlefield.

It wasn't looking good.

Just like she thought - the enemy force was numerous, well-equipped and determined to wipe the moldy gang and their friends out. The military escorts Leon brought with him were putting on a good show, but ultimately they were both outnumbered and outgunned - their own number was dwindling rapidly, with only three out of the original ten still standing.

Moreover, a large shadow hovered over the villa grounds. Raising her scoped weapon up, Cassandra felt a shiver of fright run through her own spine. She never faced anything like this before.

It appeared to be a large, military helicopter, armed to the teeth and with a decent transport capacity. The bird was amazingly quiet and in the darkness of the night - almost invisible. Surprisingly, despite the chaos below, it merely observed, without adding its own, no doubt formidable firepower into the mix.

Several ropes were hanging through its open side doors, reaching all the way towards the villa - implying that the enemy was already inside. Gritting her teeth in silent fury at the very notion that her beloved family was threatened, Cassandra mouthed a prayer for her loved ones to be alright, even as she contemplated squeezing the trigger right then and there. With a frown, the brunette was quick to reconsider - even if her weapon could bring that well-armored bird down, crashing a helicopter of that size on top of the villa probably would not be very conductive to the building's occupants' continued health.

Glancing back towards the villa's proper, something even more curious was quick to catch her eye.

In the window of a hallway located on the villa's third floor was none other than Ethan fucking Winters, who was quite busy having grievous bodily harm inflicted upon him by something the weapon's targetfinder outlined in blue and identified as a friendly.

Hissing in fury, the brunette attempted to still her breathing as she prepared to land a shot on Ethan's assailant. Only I get to mutilate you, Ethan.

With her target concealed behind a hallway's wall for a moment, Cassandra had a moment to amend that thought. Well, maybe Bela too, I guess. Only fair.

The second her unknowing prey stepped back into her line of sight - thanks to the small window it ambled past - Cassandra squeezed the trigger.

There was no recoil as the weapon let loose a piercing shriek, as well as a bright lance of light. Which was a bit of a letdown, since the middle child liked her guns having some kick. The effects on her target, however, were instantaneous and gruesome enough that the sadistic daughter could not help herself but let out a girlish squeal of wicked delight.

In the very moment her prey's flesh was stripped from its bones, Cassandra decided that she had a new best friend.

"Forget Anabelle! I'll call you Lux. For you bring the light of truth to the ignorant masses!"

Whistling in satisfaction at her wit - and utterly ignoring the angry hum the gun itself made as it registered a friendly-fire incident, Cassandra proceeded to give the little man-thing that now owed her a big favor a carefree wave with her free hand.

"Would you look at that…" Ethan's return 'wave' made Cassandra unable to stifle a gasp of surprise intermixed with amusement. When she had first met the man several years ago, she judged him as nothing more than a wimp… a weakling. And now, the middle Dimitrescu sibling found herself not that opposed to the idea that this man would eventually become her brother-in-law. Eventually.

As Ethan moved on to address his no-doubt painful injury, Cassandra returned her attention to her new best friend - there were still plenty of enemies to kill, after all. Still amazed at the weapon's incredibly gory effects, the brutal woman cooed at it softly, as she tenderly caresses its hard edges.

"Ah, Lux, Such good friends we will be… I can tell!"

Unfortunately, Lux was not looking to make new friends that night, after all. As Cassandra's gentle digits passed over its built-in fingerprint scanner, the weapon let out an angry hum; with its digital ammo counter being replaced by a curious message.

Unauthorized User. Initiating Farewell Protocol.

"Farewell!? We've just met!" Cassandra's indignant yelp gave way to unease as the gun started to rapidly heat up in her arms. Her sense of self-preservation screamed at the brunette to immediately discard the gun - and so she did, yet she was not fast enough.

With a deafening high-pitched shriek, the gun exploded mere inches away from Cassandra's hands, with super-heated bluish flames immediately leaping at her soft skin, only to feast upon it with insatiable hunger.

The uncontained plasma discharge evaporated quickly in standard atmospheric conditions, yet the damage was done. Letting out a series of short screams evoked by exquisite agony of her hands being seared to the bone, Cassandra fell right on her rear, before curling into a protective ball. "Aaghhh, God DAMN! My fucking hands!"

Rolling on the ground in an attempt to extinguish some secondary fires that were caught on by her clothes, the brunette daughter briefly considered how she would've found it amusing, hilarious even to watch - were it to happen to some random human. Cassandra found remarkably less amusement in the fact that it was her body that was currently being ravaged by agonizing, searing pain.

"Fuck you, Lux! I thought we were friends…" grunting one last jibe in a petty attempt to get even, Cassandra felt consciousness leaving her. The pain of her seared limbs eventually proved too much and darkness soon claimed the middle Dimitrescu sibling. Her last waking thought was the hope that her sisters and mother were doing better than her.

---

Music Room - Second Floor | 10:55 PM.

Before the lights went out, Daniela had been giving out a Grand Piano performance. True, her audience was a little shy for such a proud name - just precious Rose and curious Emily. Neither was her skill with piano of any particular note, as Daniela's true passion lay with her beloved violin.

Regardless of that, the redheaded Dimitrescu was inspired to play a couple of songs after Jill's majestic performance earlier. To accommodate for her own lack of practice, as well as for the specific spectator, Daniela had settled on simple, happy melodies. Despite the fact that she had fumbled with some notes, her small but passionate audience gazed at the vampiric pianist with nothing but admiration and joy.

With her pink tongue slightly peeking out as she stared at the sheet music in front of her with an enviable amount of concentration, Daniela was determined to finish this song without any fumbles.

That particular dream crashed and burned as the darkness suddenly enveloped the room, ruining her performance.

Taken by uncharacteristic anger at this most unfortunate turn of events, Daniela slammed her fists against the keys, producing a discordant noise as she cursed in her native tongue.

"La naiba!"

Embarrassed by her momentary lapse of control - in presence of a young child, no less, Daniela quickly murmured out something unintelligible, before finally arriving at the realization that something was wrong.

"Ugh… where did the light go?"

"Looks like a blackout." offered Emily, as she reached into her jeans' pocket for a smartphone - to illuminate the room with its flashlight feature.

"Damn, looks like it affected a good portion of the city, as well…" the Hound Wolf only female operator continued, as she gazed outside the large window.

Standing up from her piano seat, the redhead Dimitrescu fished for her own smartphone - to add its light, as well. As she frustratedly scrolled through the phone's many silly features - most of them useless - she let out a small groan of annoyance, before going completely quiet - listening carefully, instead.

Daniela's keen ears twitched in curiosity as her sharp senses picked up an odd noise coming from somewhere above. The roof, perhaps? Regardless of its origin, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter had never heard anything like that before in her long life. It sounded like some kind of garbled electronic sound, as if some computer was broken, or something.

"Do you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Emily clearly didn't, nor did Rose - the tiny girl simply shook her head in response.

The strange, alien sound died down, only to repeat again after a couple of moments - closer this time and the human occupants of the music room tensed up - finally hearing it. Rose made a motion to huddle closer to Daniela, hugging her leg. "I am scared, Dani…" The redhead chuckled lovingly, as she ruffled the child's blonde locks.

"It's alright, hon. Auntie Dani is not gonna let any scary monsters hurt you!"

The sound of distortion did not relent, and now it appeared as if it came from right outside the music room. Emily's hand reached for her pistol, but her digits merely touched the holster, not yet drawing the gun.

"We should go back downstairs, girls…" offered Emily, as her eyes attempted to locate the source of the noise. The blonde Hound Wolf woman made a motion to follow up on her own advice; illuminating the path with her phone. By chance, some light from it fell upon the ceiling, yet the human operative saw nothing wrong.

Daniela's sharp amber orbs however, saw something distinctly unnatural, something that made a chill of fright run down her own spine. It was as if a distorted silhouette of something - barely perceptible even to her keen eyes - was attached to the ceiling. The only reason Daniela could even see it was because of the slight shimmering effect it had in the space it occupied, like slight ripples of waves in the ocean. The shimmering figure was right above Emily.

A short-lived, yet powerful shrill sound that could compete with a thunder in its intensity resonated from below - stopping Emily dead in her tracks; the distorted silhouette above the blonde Hound Wolf visibly twitched, disturbed by the noise ...as if posed to attack...

Daniela's cry of warning died on her lips as the silhouette detached from the ceiling, only to drop down right at Emily. A flash of steel preceded a horrible sloshing sound and a second later, the blonde woman that had given Daniela heartfelt applause mere minutes ago, stood headless. A fountain of pressurized arterial blood erupted from Emily's stump of a neck, before the decapitated corpse, bereft of direction, finally collapsed.

Emily's murderer - and Daniela could see it clearly now, as whatever force concealed it dissipated on its vicious attack - was a humanoid figure - a human male perhaps, as it was hard to tell for sure, since the figure was covered, head to toe, by some kind of fiberglass-like suit. A pair of vicious red slits likely served as his eyes, while a pair of wicked blades were attached to his right forearm. A small, peculiar backpack was peeking from behind his shoulders.

All that Daniela's keen eyes took in a second, as a second is all it took for the creature to fade from view - with that same distorted electrical sound she had heard earlier.

The figure was still standing in that spot near the doorway, however, as something had to be holding Emily's severed head - which was now hovering at chest level above floor.

With what sounded like a derisive snort, the head was let go in a way that saw it slowly roll right towards the huddling pair of girls, leaving a bloody trail as it went. As it came to a decisive stop, Emily's lifeless orbs stared right at Daniela, making the redhead's stomach churn.

True, the youngest Dimitrescu was no stranger to severed heads, as she had seen her fair share of them over the years, yet the grisly sight still evoked horrifying memories of her darkest days - almost making the girl let out a piercing scream that begged to be let loose.

Little Rose, who still hugged Daniela's leg as if her life depended on it, had no such restraint. The piercing shriek that erupted from Rose's tiny mouth was so full of anguish and terror that Daniela was sure that it would never fade from her memory.

Making sure to place herself in between the last known location of the assassin and the innocent child, Daniela let out a low, threatening hiss; her fair features twisting into a menacing, snarling grimace. Whatever that thing was, she was not going to let it touch even one blonde hair of Rose.

Even unarmed, a Dimitrescu daughter was a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps the assassin felt the threat the slender woman exuded, or maybe he was merely toying with them. Regardless of his intent, Daniela could no longer spot his tell-tale shimmering frame within the room, yet they were not out of danger yet.

Clearly, the assassin that had claimed Emily's life brought friends. A lot of them, if brutal sounds of gunfire that were now coming from villa's grounds was any indication. Moreover - as if to compound the danger - a menacing, low chuckle came just right outside the musical room, and Daniela realized that the murdering fiend was waiting for them.

We are safe here… he's a coward, he won't attack me when I am prepared for it… I'll just wait here for help, with Rosie. I must keep her safe at all costs…

Daniela's smart plan never left its inception phase, as the large glass window that separated the 2nd floor's musical room from the outdoors was shattered, with a myriad of sharp fragments flying in every direction.

Turning around, Daniela's heart skipped a beat as she saw the source of the disturbance. A trio of black-clad, well-armored and armed intruders were suddenly sharing the room with them. The soldiers' most distinguishing feature were their helmets, or more precisely their face-plates - which somewhat resembled a hockey mask, except with menacing angles and a singular visor instead of typical eye-holes. Three heavy-duty ropes, hanging behind the attackers, hinted at the roof as their point of arrival.

The moment the intruders' boots touched the floor - they opened fire. Either they identified the innocent child and the youngest Dimitrescu sibling as their targets in a blink of an eye, or they simply did not care - everyone in this villa was marked for termination.

Daniela could only thank the heavens for the simple fact that the apparently bulletproof Grand Piano was in between the two parties. Several rounds passed through the redhead's tall frame - doing little damage, before she could cover behind the musical instrument; Rose's tiny shape was wholly concealed by it, and therefore spared from harm - for now.

Hissing in anger, the Dimitrescu daughter realized that she had to act - fast. It was only a matter of time until either piano gave out from the barrage, or the intruders would move around it; worse yet - one of them could simply chuck a grenade their way.

Glancing sideways, Daniela saw a small supply closet - a perfect place for little Rose to hide out in, while she herself could hopefully stop the aggressors somehow. Willing her arm to shapeshift into the swarm - only to carry Emily's unused sidearm back to her, the redhead now had a plan, which she relayed, yelling through the gunfire.

"Rose! Hide behind me and make a run for that supply closet!"

Amazingly, the terrified child only nodded her tiny head at her. Daniela knew that many adults - if placed in such a dreadful situation - would panic and heed nothing. Rose was truly a remarkable girl…

Standing up from their impromptu cover, with a scream of rage, Daniela let loose upon their attackers with Emily's sidearm. 9mm rounds struck against their body armor, doing little damage - yet their return fire slackened, as they attempted to seek out whatever cover that was available to them.

This was the moment Daniela made a sideway motion from their own cover - exposing her body fully to superior firepower of their aggressors. Bullets passed right through her flickering frame only to strike the wall behind her - making her experience a horrible revelation.

I can't use my body as cover for Rose! Damn it… I'll have to force myself to remain whole as they shoot at us…

Gritting her teeth, Daniela felt a small hand wrapping itself around her thigh - Rosie was following her right into the killzone, trusting the redhead to keep her safe…

I will not betray your trust, Rosie! Fuck… this is gonna hurt...

Collecting her willpower in an iron fist, Daniela Dimitrescu did something she never thought she would. Intentionally overriding her body's instinctual reaction to assume partial swarm form in response to threatening swift and sharp objects was not something she ever considered. She could only trust that her mold-rich body would keep her alive through that foolhardy act.

As small-caliber bullets struck her solid flesh, burying themselves deep inside her innards and drawing black blood, Daniela kept moving sideways, even as tears, caused by indescribable agony trickled freely down her mascara-smeared face.

Getting to the closet, the redhead did not hesitate to roughly push the child in, before slamming the door shut.

The level of pain the redhead felt now was not matched by any previous experience in her long life. Almost feral from ongoing and intensifying suffering, the youngest Dimitrescu dispersed fully into her swarm form; the empty pistol cluttering to the floor, forgotten.

Still connected by her hivemind, the erratic insects swarmed around the room, with the aggressors finally holding fire and simply gaping at the directionless bugs. Trading glances among themselves, the soldiers started reaching for their incendiary grenades, determined to burn the whole room.

Meanwhile, frozen in time, in the depth of her own psyche, the youngest Dimitrescu came face to face with someone - the one thing she hated the most - herself.

The redheaded girl that stared back at her growled in rage, as not a speck of sanity or humanity could be found in her depthless bloodshot eyes. Only insatiable hunger and fiery, primal frenzy. In a moment, that creature of indiscriminate destruction would be out there, while she will be stuck here, in this mental prison.

As her blood-starved twin made a motion to move past her, Daniela placed a single, soothing palm on her shoulder.

"Hunger…" The feral twin snarled back at her, slapping the hand away. It would not be denied now. Yet Daniela was not done. Recalling everything she had learned, the youngest daughter placed herself firmly in the creature's path - locking their gazes together - for just a brief moment.

"We do not destroy...we Protect."

Daniela put her every positive emotion, her every desire into that single word, hoping against hope that the beast would heed it. Compounding the message, she focused on picturing Rose's and Ethan's smiling faces. The kindness they've shown. The love and familial affection they had shared with her. It had to count for something - even to this monstrous side of hers.

The feral twin hissed in momentarily confusion, before roughly shoving Daniela away from its path. Imprisoned in the depths of her own mind, the youngest child could only hope that this was enough, as control left her fully.

With Daniela's rational mind retreating from the waking world, only the feral creature of instinct was left behind. As the swarm coalesced back together, it beheld the trio of attackers. Their features, intentions or actions were irrelevant to it, as she saw only two things of note.

Threat. Food.

The very instant her form was solid once more, two soldiers opened fire with their submachine guns, while the third primed his grenade.

The feral creature knew survival well - it realized the deadly threat clearly, and acted accordingly.

With a burst of strength that would've left even Cassandra flabbergasted, the darker side of Daniela firmly grabbed the Grand Piano by its leg, before - with a growl of titanic effort - lifting the whole thing up. The already-much abused instrument groaned in protest, as it was about to collapse under its own prodigious weight. Daniela would not give it the chance to do so, however, as she, in a single, lightning-fast motion, smashed the 600 lbs musical instrument into the closest attacker.

The intruder must've had nearly superhuman reflexes himself, as he attempted to dodge the impromptu club with remarkable dexterity, yet the sheer size of it, combined with the speed of the attack left him little room to maneuver. Upon impact the piano produced a sad discordant noise, while falling from her loosened grip. With the expensive wood fragments shooting in every direction, it was unlikely that it would ever be used for its intended purpose again.

The effect on the soldier was even more pronounced, however, as the piano pushed him into the wall - for just a millisecond. After that, the unstoppable force had met an immovable object - with the unfortunate fleshy meatbag stuck in between. With a horrifying squelching sound, the invader's torso got obliterated by the incredible power pushing against it. Organs were pulped, bones crushed and powdered. Naturally, the invader did not move again, not with his spinal column shattered in sixteen places.

Remarkably, the remaining two intruders did not even pause in their aggression at witnessing their compatriot's horrifying demise. The gunner continued to pepper Daniela with ineffective gunfire, while the grenadier had finally raised his grenade - its pin pulled and the device in the process of being 'cooked' to perfection.

Hissing viciously, Daniela repositioned herself to be once again in between the piano and the attackers. With its legs broken, it could no longer serve as a club, yet the creature had a different use for it in its dark mind.

With a shoulder slam of incredible power, Daniela pushed the Grand Piano forward. Such was the fury-driven vampire's strength, that the 600 lbs musical instrument launched right at the duo of no-doubt shocked troopers. One of them - closer to the side of the inbound makeshift projectile managed to leap to the side, while the middle one simply had nowhere to go. Nowhere but down, as the piano's impact launched the invader right through the shattered window; the instrument followed him shortly.

The discordant noise of the dying piano crashing down from the second floor was succeeded by a booming noise of an exploding grenade, yet Daniela's attention was firmly locked upon the last soldier.

Seeing his gunfire ineffective against her shimmering form and his compatriots down, the trooper reached for his own grenade, yet Daniela would not give him the chance to pull the pin. In a blink of an eye, the monstrous vampire was upon the soldier, with her inhumanly powerful arms battering the weapons away, before holding him in a deathgrip as she bit down hard at his jugular.

Whatever hardened textile was used for his outfit was no match against her sharp teeth and soon Daniela was able to taste his vital fluid. It was horribly bland, with a particularly unpleasant machine oil-like aftertaste. Yet the creature cared not for its taste. All it desired was the nutrients it desperately needed to sustain its wounded, fading body. And in that regard, the blood was rich indeed. Daniela drunk greedily, lapping every single drop, until the exsanguinated corpse had no more to give. But even then, she was not done, as her arms tore off its combat vest, only to start her feast in its earnest - now engorging herself upon its similarly distasteful yet nutrient-rich flesh and organs.

So lost the redheaded vampire was in her grim feast that she failed to note the familiar distorted electrical noise, not until it was too late.

"Behind you, Dani!" Rose's panicked voice was the last thing she had heard, before her whole body was paralyzed by an indescribable feeling of agony. Glancing down towards the origin of her newest suffering, the creature that was Daniela felt genuine fear - perhaps for the first time in its long and pain-filled existence.

A pair of wicked, electrified blades were poking through her stomach, and the smell of burnt flesh - her own - was overwhelming. With a wet squelching noise, the blades retracted and Daniela felt her own strength being sapped as volatile current ran throughout her body.

Combined with her previous injuries, she finally had no more to give. With a defeated grunt, the vampire collapsed backwards, only to hear the fiber-glass suited freak's mirthless chuckle.

Faced with the prospect of her own mortality, the creature still did not go quietly into the night. As the assassin raised his blades for a killing blow, Daniela let out a defiant roar that carried with it the fury of decades of mindless brutality and primal savagery. Even her would-be killer paused from the sheer intensity the Dimitrescu exuded in that moment.

Nevertheless, the assassin had a job to do, and he would accept no more delays. Raising his electrified blades for a decapitating strike, the man did not hear a pair of quiet feet approaching him from behind.

"Don't you dare to lay a finger on my daughter, you filth!" Alcina's shriek pierced the air even as her kitchen knife pierced the neck of Daniela's foe.

The assassin gurgled his own blood, yet amazingly, did not fall right then and there. With a burst of speed and strength that betrayed his own inhuman origins, he rotated around to deliver a jaw-shattering backhand to the noblewoman.

Letting out a choking grunt, the assassin pulled out the kitchen knife, only to discard it as he stalked towards the now prone Lady Dimitrescu. Not giving her a chance to recover, the vile invader grasped her by the neck with his powerful left hand. Lifting her up as if she weighed nothing, the assassin slammed her hard against the nearby shelf, with musical sheets flying free from the impact.

As he raised his bladed arm to finish her off, Lady Dimitrescu leveled a defiant glare against the murderer. She would not cower before any man. Not again.

Suddenly - delaying the execution yet again, the assassin grunted in pain, before a small yet fierce cry resonated across the music room.

"Leave us alone! Go away!"

With astonishment, Lady Dimitrescu glanced downwards, only to beheld Rose - with her tiny hands gripping the discarded kitchen knife as she plunged it deep into the man's thigh.

Unheeding the danger to herself, the precious child came to her aid.

Recovering from pain swiftly, the assassin prepared to strike at the poor girl - clearly unbothered by any moral or ethical implications of such a vile act.

The sight of the atrocity that was about to take place evoked the most painful of memories in the countess. As they flashed before her eyes, she could not stop herself from frothing in rage, even if she wanted to. Any insults or threats she could think of would be wasted, thanks to her dislocated jaw. Instead, Alcina did something she never thought she would, not after what Mia Winters did to her.

Still held by the assassin's left hand, the noblewoman let out a gurgled roar of rage, as she forced every ounce of hatred and fury she held within her heart into her right hand. To her unbridled relief and assassin's horror, her mold-hardened nails swiftly elongated into wickedly sharp blades that soon found their mark right in his throat - before quickly carving through the flesh and bone to pierce deeper yet - getting to the brain and finally ending the assassin.

With no will keeping the man upright, both himself and the countess his hand still held in its rapidly-slackening grip tumbled to the floor - where they both remained.

Entangled with her newest victim, Alcina could not free herself - for the countess was paralyzed by pain. Without her prodigious regeneration, the act of elongating her nails proved to be excruciatingly agonizing.

Overwhelmed by pain, Lady Dimitrescu could do nothing but let out tormented whimpers out through her broken jaw, even as she heard little Rose crying out in fright. But the most damning sound was one that was lacking - her beautiful, precious Daniela was deathly silent now.

---

Basement Sub-Level | 11:05 PM.

Jill grumbled in annoyance as she navigated the lightless expanse of tunnels that made the villa's basement level.

"Who designed this place..?" muttering under her breath, the woman proceeded to walk forward, nevertheless. With a small flashlight as her sole source of illumination, Jill walked with even, careful steps, even as she grit her teeth at the sound that was accompanying her every move down here.

Drip

It was a mere leaky pipe somewhere nearby, yet the brunette woman wanted to do nothing more than to find whoever was responsible for the maintenance of this place and to beat him senseless with that very pipe.

Drip

Jill could not stand this particular repeating, unyielding sound ever since she was a little girl - sharing a tiny, run-down apartment with her thieving dad - or by herself, when he was serving his time after being caught. The memory of how she would bury her tiny head deep into the pillow, desperate to escape that accursed dripping was quick to resurface.

Drip

But her younger years turned out to be a mere annoyance, as she had grown to learn during her tenure as Wesker's personal murderer. Whenever she wasn't ending or infecting some unfortunate soul at that vile man's behalf, she had obediently waited in a dirty, tiny cell with nothing but a flea-eaten mattress for a bed. It wasn't even locked - Wesker wasn't afraid of his little brainwashed slave just walking out on him. And as she sat on that filthy mattress, preparing for her next assignment, all she had to listen to was that same unbearable dripping - from a leaky pipe right over her head. Say what you will about The Connections, at least their cell was pristinely clean and properly maintained…

Drip

And, now - faced with the horrible noise once again, she almost considered abandoning her mission to seek out that leaky pipe instead - and to wreck it fully. But that would only validate her latest shrink's claim - that she was unstable; a danger to others. He thought I couldn't hear him... And far more importantly, it would imperil them all. Chris counted on her to fix that generator - and she even had an idea as to why, after a long talk they had earlier today. This was a vital job that was about more than just the damn lights - and that's why he trusted her to do it.

Nevertheless, it still took a considerable amount of willpower for Jill to suppress her uncomfortably violent urges by letting out a deep breath and returning on track. I am not letting you down again, Chris. Not again. Never again.

Drip

Approaching a turn that would eventually lead her to the backup generator room, Jill's attentive ears heard nothing but the sound of her own footsteps and that unyielding dripping that threatened to drive her nuts.

Drip… Scratch

The woman froze instantly as she picked up a third sound. She briefly entertained the notion that it was a mere rat or a mouse, yet her upbringing in a poverty-stricken urban area ensured that she knew exactly how these vermin sounded. This… was something else.

Drip

Not hearing the unidentified sound again and knowing that time was against them, Jill continued towards her objective - with measured steps and her fingers finding comfort in the familiar grips of her twin submachine guns.

Drip… Scratch

Not two steps later, that scratching sound repeated, making the woman once again stop to fully take in her surroundings. A sizable, but empty square space that could serve as a storage room - with her in the middle; as well as four concrete pillars around.

Closing her eyes that were almost useless in such conditions anyway, Jill focused all of her attention on her nearly preternatural hearing. Slight vibrations reaching Jill through the basement's stale air indicated a presence - as if something...or someone was lightly breathing. Concentrating on a particular direction, Jill could almost feel a beating heart.

They could call her crazy or unstable or dangerous all they wanted, but the former S.T.A.R.S. member knew that she was not alone down here. Just because one couldn't see something - didn't mean it wasn't there and living in the darkness taught as much. Few have experienced an all-encompassing, hopeless darkness as well as Jill did.

Suddenly, the slight vibrations shifted - getting closer to her. Jill's sixth sense screamed of imminent danger - of malice closing in on her. That's all she needed to unholster her twin guns in a blink of an eye.

With a laugh that a healthy mind would struggle to produce, Jill spread her arms wide and let loose a barrage of gunfire as she slowly rotated her torso and her arcs of fire around.

While her pair of stockless Uzis were lacking in several crucial aspects, such as effective range or penetrative power, one thing made up for it. Rate of fire. With a combined fire-rate of 1200 rounds per minute and in such close quarters, it was virtually impossible to miss. If there was something here, the chances of it escaping the barrage unscathed were next to nil.

Gunfire being utterly deafening, Jill could not possibly hear any grunts of pain her reckless action evoked, yet a burst of blood that appeared out of nowhere was enough to validate her thought patterns. I am not insane! For a moment, the joy of being correct in her assumptions almost overridden the rightful fright from the prospect of imminent combat.

The moment had passed soon, however, and the maddened adrenaline rush started its rampage across her circulatory system. The whole world slowed down as a cocktail of chemicals ran through her bloodstream - not all of them ordinary found in a human body.

In the same instance of time Jill hastily reloaded her guns - two figures revealed themselves - with a number of fresh small-caliber bullet holes decorating their, otherwise pristine, fiberglass-like suits. The figures were quick to detach themselves from their spots - the corners right under the ceiling. Betraying their own not-quite-human origins, the assassins immediately rushed Jill from two sides - not appearing overly bothered by several injuries they were now sporting.

Hoping to end the threat with a single motion, Jill let loose a barrage of gunfire against each of the assassins, but, to her chagrin, they proved elusive and sharp with both their sight and reflexes. As if tracking even the slightest movements of her trigger fingers, the murdering freaks dodged and weaved through her bullets - avoiding the bursts of gunfire even before she had fired them.

As they took a momentarily refuge behind two of the concrete pillars, Jill made a split-second decision, realizing that they would be upon her in the very next moment, and while she stood a chance against one of these freaks with bladed arms, two of them would be an insurmountable threat to face simultaneously.

Focusing her attention entirely upon the assassin to her right, Jill brought both of her guns upon him, even as the two of them rushed her in a bid to tear the woman to shreds. The moment her chosen assassin left his sanctuary of concrete, the B.S.A.A. star let loose a barrage of 9mm rounds upon it - creating an ever shrinking killzone that left no room to maneuver. As if accepting his grim fate, the masked intruder gave one last glance towards his comrade, before Jill's bullets finally found their mark.

The brunette woman found a likely unhealthy amount of satisfaction from the squelchy sounds made by the 9mm rounds tearing through flesh, as well as freshly-spilled blood splattering her face and especially the way his fading body tumbled to her feet. Wisely deciding to leave these particular feelings for her next therapy session, Jill barely managed to dodge the vicious attack the assassin to her left performed as he finally reached her.

With an envious amount of acrobatics, the brunette avoided slash after slash of his bladed right arm, yet it appeared that the remaining assassin was invigorated by the death of his comrade, as he was completely relentless in his savage desire to dismember her.

Executing a swift roundhouse kick that connected with the assassin's midriff - momentarily stunning her target, Jill backflipped in a bid to gain some distance between herself and these deadly, sparkling blades. Not wasting a single breath as her feet touched the ground, the former S.T.A.R.S. attempted to turn the threat to her continuous, if relative well-being into ribbons with her Uzis, yet the guns chose to betray her by clicking empty at this most inopportune of moments, making the woman discard them with a curse. "Fuck!"

Seeing her conundrum, the assassin let out something akin to a chuckle, before fading from view. Gritting her teeth from both her frustration at this unenviable situation she had found herself in, as well as the annoying electrical distortion-like noise the cloaking device made, Jill reached for her sidearm - the Lightning Hawk chambered for .44 Magnum.

Unfortunately, the remaining assassin decided that he was done playing games and rushed the woman immediately, relying on his near-perfect camouflage to mask his movements. And while Jill could clearly perceive a slight shimmering rapidly approaching her, she misjudged the sheer speed the assassin possessed.

Jill's last moment's partial dodge saw the woman's head still attached to her neck - to the assassin's annoyance - yet it was not enough to completely avoid the deadly attack.

As the assassin took a moment to appreciate his work, the smell of seared flesh assaulted her nostrils. In a morbid, almost detached curiosity, Jill risked a glance to observe her left arm - or what was left of it. Cut right above the elbow, her limb made a spectacular arc - trailing pressurized blood all the while - as it soared through the air, only to land in a corner nearby.

An ordinary human would've found the experience excruciatingly painful, yet the brunette woman felt nothing but a slight prickle. Instead of succumbing to pain or despair, Jill found her mind working with remarkable clarity, as it thought on how to put this most unenviable situation to her advantage.

With a swift, reckless and likely insane plot hatched, Jill waited for the assassin to prepare to deliver a killing blow - she did not have to wait long. Growling in bloodlust, the murdering fiend was once again upon her - poised to end his nemesis for good, yet Jill would have none of it. In a single motion the agile woman dodged the blades, not forgetting to splatter the assassin's face with the pressurized blood from her stump by performing a swift twist of the appendage in question. Disoriented, yet clearly possessing superior survival instincts, the assassin faded from view - not allowing the brunette to execute him with her magnum.

But that was all according to her plan, as an instant later Jill found herself breaking into a frenzied sprint - back towards the labyrinth-like corridors, even as her agile fingers holstered the gun and worked on detaching a small device from her utility belt.

The sound of the heavier footsteps was soon to join the one she made herself, as the assassin - now growling in clear bloodlust and rage - was starting to give chase. With a smirk one wouldn't expect to see on the face of a person who had just lost an arm, Jill rounded one more corner before quickly setting up the device and jumping away from it.

She had little doubt that under ordinary conditions, the likely well-trained assassin would never fall for such a simple trick, yet the rage of the vocal sounds he made in his pursuit clearly betrayed the bloodthirsty haze that had enveloped his mind - he was desperate to finish her off.

In his eagerness to do so, he did not pause to take a glance at the floor as he rounded the corner. A fatal mistake, as it turned out in the next moment when a tiny but potent mine exploded right underneath his feet.

In a twist of fate that split Jill's lips into a wicked grin, the assassin's right leg was torn away at the knee by the blast; coloring the hallway crimson. The man grunted in shock and pain as he tumbled forward, landing in a heap only a couple of feet away from Jill, who was leaning against a wall, as she appreciated the fruits of her labor.

Recovering somewhat, the assassin, growling like a wild beast, attempted to crawl towards his target - who smirked at this last-ditch effort to end her life.

"Tougher critters than you have tried."

The roar of .44 Magnum within the tight confines of the corridor were deafening, but the satisfaction of seeing a hideous hole being carved right between the eyes of her foe was worth it. Blowing that thing's brains out was oddly reminiscent of another near-death encounter the brunette woman once had, which was almost nostalgic when she thought about it.

Regardless, with the adrenaline rush dying alongside her enemies, the effects of the massive bloodloss she endured was rearing its ugly head. Suddenly feeling dizzy and knowing that she could black out at any moment, Jill was swift to holster her powerful Lightning Hawk and to backtrack towards the generator room.

Mercifully not encountering any more hostiles, the stalwart woman did not even glance at her severed appendage as she passed it. Upon finally having reached her goal - for which she had bled quite severely - Jill let out a breath of relief, as it appeared that the bulky generator was merely shut down, and not sabotaged beyond her ability to fix it.

Not wasting any time, Jill quickly set upon activating the generator and after fidgeting for a bit with buttons and levers, she was rewarded for her efforts by a monotonous hum that preceded a painful flash - the sudden reactivation of the lights in the basement level and hopefully, in the villa's proper, as well.

Only after she was done with the task entrusted to her, did the woman decide to finally address her crippling injury. Trudging towards the nearest wall, Jill leaned hard against it, before unceremoniously slumping in a corner.

Barely able to keep her eyelids from slamming shut and feeling strength being rapidly sapped from her remaining hand, the severely wounded woman let out a tired sigh, before grabbing a small first aid spray from her utility belt and pouring it all over her stump.

Hoping that it would be enough to stop the bleeding and keep the horrible wound from getting infected, Jill passed out. She did what she could, and the rest, as well as her own life - was now in the hands of fate.

---

Living Room - First Floor | 11:05 PM.

Chris could only curse as a beam of bluish energies passed mere inches from his head. Attempting to suppress a sniper at this range with his Dragoon rifle - by himself and in the dark, no less, was not a risk-free endeavor, yet he committed to it without hesitation.

Even going beyond the fact that Cassandra was a comrade-in-arms now, and Chris would never shy away from danger for the sake of people he considered as such, there was a certain other feeling at play, as well.

The very notion that the vicious Romanian vampiric B.O.W. that was now risking it all for their sake would perish while he merely watched was unthinkable. The horrid idea evoked a burst of protective rage that allowed Chris' motor functions to override the instinct of self-preservation that yelled at him to stick to his cover.

Instead, with an adrenaline-fueled focus, the captain rushed towards the other window that had a line of sight at their quarry. Taking just a moment to aim - as every precious moment counted in such situations - Chris squeezed the trigger. In validation of the endless training sessions the captain went through, the burst of gunfire went exactly where Chris wanted it to go - making the sniper fall back behind cover and buying several priceless seconds for Cassandra.

Despite how hard it was to see anything in the accursed darkness, Cassandra's tall yet slender figure assembling itself seemingly out of thin air allowed the captain to let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. She made it… thank God.

As the fierce Dimitrescu sibling immediately engaged the sniper in her beloved melee combat, the captain knew that his work was done - at least on that front. Glancing towards the living room, Chris saw Leon nearby - taking potshots from the opposite window.

"They are getting slaughtered out there…" Leon's wary mumble was not reassuring. If even their Delta Force escort was already crumbling, the opposition could be none other than the Replica. With superior training, strength, endurance and reflexes; equipped with the finest gear available and utterly dedicated to whatever mission they were given - they were not a foe to be trifled with.

There was only one way any of them could leave this villa alive - by using a strange device the Hound Wolves managed to recover from the Connection's more clandestine lab, more than a year ago.

While they still had no real idea what the exact purpose of the enigmatic device was, the one known side-effect had proven itself useful. Upon activation, the device in question produced a 'psychic scream'-like effect of considerable power, which happened to sever the connection the Replicas had to their commander. That, in itself, was not enough to defeat them, yet it exploited a built-in safeguard that forced them to enter hibernation mode upon an occurrence of exactly such a scenario.

This is how they rescued the moldy gang in Mauritania and this is how they could survive now. Simply activate the device and quietly fly away into the sunset. Of course, with its accumulators burned out during the stunt in Africa, the device now relied exclusively on an external power source, in this case - the villa's basement generator - which was still offline. He could only hope that Jill would pull through soon...

Adjusting his headset radio, Chris barked a new directive, struggling to do so with the roar of gunfire coming from every direction, "Charlie, you have to activate the device - these are fucking Replicas!"

The response that came was more than a little disheartening. Charlie himself was dead, and apparently only Ethan was anywhere near the helipad. Doing his best to suppress a spike of grief and depression that struck at his heart at yet another brave man giving his life while under his command, Chris did his best to convey the vital importance of activating the device, yet soon their conversation was interrupted by a colossal figure literally smashing through the wall Leon was taking cover behind.

The well-trained agent managed to roll with the force, avoiding the worst, yet Chris knew this was a dangerous enemy that had just crashed their party. Ending the radio chat with Ethan, Chris took a moment to appreciate the scale of this newest threat.

The juggernaut was a Replica Heavy Armor - an enhanced variant with greatly increased size, strength and survivability; clad in its namesake heavy armor, it was a terror to face in a close-quarter environment such as the living room they all found themselves in.

Luckily for them, the Heavy had clearly seen better days, as a myriad of piercing wounds covered less-protected parts of its body; it obviously favored its right leg as something must've damaged the left one severely; a secondary weapon on its left gauntlet was disabled by gunfire; its large orb-like visor was cracked and finally - it lacked its trademark HV Hammerhead anti-armor weapon and challenged them unarmed.

Of course, the term 'unarmed' might not quite apply to a 500+ lbs metal-plated monstrosity. With a roar that sounded almost demonic, the Heavy attempted to bash Leon with an overhead smash, yet the agile man simply rolled out of the way, before unloading his entire pistol's clip into the cursed thing - to no appreciable effects. Chris was quick to add his own Dragoon firepower into the mix, but the Heavy merely angled his oversized pauldron to take the blunt of the damage - it was clearly not a stranger to being shot at.

Seeing the assault rifle armed captain as the bigger threat, the enraged goliath rushed right his way. A barrage of blows from the giant's armored gauntlets put Chris fully on the defensive, as even a single direct hit from such a mighty foe would no doubt shatter bones and pulverize organs.

Doing his best to dodge out of every telegraphed attack's way, Chris found himself cornered in between the TV set, the table where the gang played cards and some goddamn shopping cart, full of junk food. Unable to fully avoid the next crushing blow, the captain shoved his assault rifle forward, hoping that it would deflect at least some of the damage. As expected, the strike sent the captain flying, toppling over the cart and creating a small downpour of energy bars and chips bags.

Regaining his footing quickly, Chris hastily inspected his rifle - which turned out to be actually bent from the force of the blow. Discarding his beloved but now ruined gun with no small amount of sadness, the captain had enough of this brute breaking his favorite things.

Making a taunting gesture with his fingers, Chris resumed their little scuffle. The enraged colossus immediately charged forward, hoping to utterly crash the smaller man, yet that's what Chris wanted. Dodging with a lightning-fast sidestep at the last second, the captain had the satisfaction of seeing the giant impact the large sofa, toppling both himself and the piece of furniture. Before it could regain its footing, Chris brutally shoved his combat knife right where its under-armor was already ruined and dark red blood spilt - the backside of the left knee. Twisting the blade around, the captain barely managed to avoid the skull-cracking backhand that followed.

Leaving the knife stuck in the thing's flesh, Chris attempted to gain some distance from it once again, with the frothing Heavy stumbling after him - roaring in anger and agony through its by-now deformed helmet. Avoiding the next blow from the enraged goliath, the captain attempted to circle around the card table, yet the giant simply kicked it away, with cards flying everywhere as the result - it seemed like Cassandra and Dion would have to settle on a draw.

As the falling cards blanketed the area, a moment of blindness-induced confusion followed and as the disoriented Heavy passed the large plasma TV set, Leon shoulder-smashed into its side, crashing it into the expensive device, causing sparks to cascade around its armored frame.

Undaunted by uncountable wounds sustained, the monstrous foe immediately attempted to regain its footing, yet only a haymaker of terrifying power met its visored face as it rotated to face its foes. The force of the captain's haymakers was truly legendary in the B.S.A.A. and now the Replica Heavy knew exactly why as it stumbled backwards, with stars in its eyes and its reinforced visor finally shattered.

Chris winced and shook his poor fist, as striking the damn thing felt much akin to punching that nefarious boulder - except this time, the boulder clearly sought to punch back. Uncaring by his sudden vulnerability, the dazed Heavy started to blindly swing its armored gauntlets around. Nevertheless, its disoriented state presented an opening the captain would not dare to waste. With razor-sharp focus, Chris performed a bold move - dexterously weaving around the wild swings while closing the distance and leveraging his whole bulk to tackle the enormous foe down.

"Finish him!"

Chris' roar was audible even through the all-encompassing chaos and Leon didn't need to be told twice, as the man swiftly jumped on top of the fallen Heavy's shoulderpads, only to unload his whole pistol's clip into the goliath's no-longer protected face. Its struggles ceased as its limbs slackened and it did not attempt to get up again.

"Nice job, David." Accepting Leon's offered hand and the comment, Chris got back to his feet, even as he let out a small chuckle at the reference. The momentarily humor died quickly as a distinct lack of gunfire from outside held a dire implication.

As if on cue, John and Dion stumbled back into the living room - panting and covered in sweat and blood - and dragging a third man. With arms around their shoulders, Douglas - delirious from blood loss and with his legs peppered by shrapnel, was not looking like much of a fighter anymore. John himself had a nasty bleeding hole in his left arm - luckily the bullet appeared to have gone through. Only Dion was relatively unscathed, though the horror of the skirmish left his mark - the youthful man's green eyes betrayed the depth of his trauma.

"There are at least two dozen of them outside, captain. They are surrounding the building and will likely push in a coordinated wave… what are you orders?"

The desperation was plain in the youngest Hound Wolf's voice. Despite being an experienced combatant, the youthful man was afraid of death. And Dion knew an unwinnable fight when he saw one. Chris could share his underling's apprehension. Despite every horror, every nightmarish monstrosity and every failure the captain lived through - he wanted to live, as well. Lately, in particular, another reason to get up in the morning reared its brunette's head in Chris' life.

Unfortunately, there was simply no clear escape route available to the gang. Surely, the enemy would have accounted for their aircraft and had a dedicated unit on standby to shoot it down, were they to attempt to use it. Moreover, they still had a large number of their own unaccounted for: Cassandra, Jill, Emily, Rolando, Rose, Alcina, Daniela and even Anna; even presuming that they could recover Ethan and Bela on their way up, Chris was just not prepared to yield this centralized location and leave his friends and colleagues ripe for the slaughter that would surely follow if Replica were allowed to flood the villa unopposed.

The best chance for survival was holding this very living room - which provided a clear line of sight and lack of cover for invaders, while hoping that Ethan would do his part. Suppressing a shiver of fright and maintaining his tough and calming facade, the captain gave his order.

"We hold our ground here." Dion was quick to open his mouth, as if in protest, yet a hard glare from Chris was just as quick to force it close again.

The grim-faced and battle-weary squad set on their thankless task of hastily turning every suitable object into an impromptu cover. A sliver of hope appeared without warning - taking the shape of light that suddenly illuminated the room once again. The basement generator was turned on.

Even as he grunted in effort - turning the massive Heavy's corpse around to make it a solid piece of cover - Chris couldn't suppress a smirk from breaking through his bloodied face at the implication that his old partner was alive and hopefully well.

Thank God Jill is alright... Now it's just up to Ethan… and to us.

With the small squad quickly entrenching themselves, tension became palpable, completely overtaking the hope, as a number of heavy-duty boots stomping upon the paved road could be heard, coming from right outside of villa's entrance.

---

Bedroom #4 - Third Floor | 11:02 PM.

A piercing shriek that somehow sounded like a discharge of a powerful weapon to Ethan was what finally broke the duo out of their fear-induced trance. A loud thud came from above shortly - as if something really heavy fell down upon the roof.

Trading reassuring glances with Bela, the pair vacated her small room, eager to rejoin their loved ones - desperate to ensure their safety. Ethan's cellphone, peeking out of his shirt's breast pocket, was their only source of illumination in the dark halls.

Bela was armed with her trusty sickle, while Ethan carried a .357 Desert Eagle sidearm - looted seemingly so long ago by his vampiric lover. Hopefully, such modest armament would be sufficient against the threats they were surely about to face.

That particular notion was dispelled quickly as noises of overwhelming automatic gunfire started to come from the villa's grounds. A pistol and a simple farming tool were hardly an adequate response, but that was all they had at the moment.

Nodding towards the staircase that went down at the end of a long hallway, the pair headed right towards it, yet they did not get far before a commotion attracted their attention. From the other hallway that went perpendicular to their own - the one that led to a staircase that reached towards the roof and the helipad, Charlie 'Night Howl' Graham sprinted their way.

The Hound Wolf pilot/mechanic had an expression of desperate resolve on his face, as though he was running from whatever was chasing him not out of fear, but simply out of knowledge that he was hopelessly outmatched and that his death would serve no purpose.

In several seconds he would reach the intersection where the pair awaited - and presumably safety. Ethan's eyes widened as he beheld the colossal figure that stumbled its way down from the roof access - right behind Charlie. Before Ethan could take in its fearsome appearance, the figure raised its enormous weapon and with pinpoint accuracy and zero hesitation unloaded upon Charlie's back.

Just as he was about to reach them, a trio of spike-like projectiles found their mark in his back. Their penetrating power was formidable, as they went through Charlie's kevlar vest as if it was a wet tissue paper. In a grisly display, the spikes remained embedded in his body as their hooked endings carved deep gouges in his flesh. The kinetic energy of the projectiles must have been truly prodigious, as the spikes continued on their course until they reached the hallway's wall - carrying the poor man's body along.

Seeing Charlie's impaled body pinned to the wall in a horrifying display of indescribable brutality, Bela's own features hardened. They might have not known the pilot for long, or even spoke to him at length, but he was a comrade. A trusted ally. And now he was reduced to a morbid, vomit-inducing wall decoration.

Overcoming his own shock, Ethan finally had a chance to properly take in this new nemesis of theirs. The man's blood chilled in his veins as he beheld the juggernaut of metal plates that was now slowly but inevitably stomping its way towards them.

It was a humanoid figure, covered from head to toe in heavy metal armor. In a way, it was similar to the armored Tyrant they had encountered on that island facility, yet there were a number of differences. Firstly, it was noticeably more compact, as despite being a head taller than Ethan, it still maneuvered the relatively tight hallway with no issues. Secondly, its bulky, incredibly heavy-looking armor had no signs of being externally or internally powered. The creature had to be carrying all these metal plates by its own, likely inhuman, power.

Despite its fearsome appearance and the brutality of its latest kill, Bela did not hesitate to stand against the colossal foe; her sickle ready and aching for revenge. The heavily-armored giant itself appeared unimpressed with the slender woman in a yellow dress, armed with a mere farming tool, but daring to stand against it.

With what sounded like a muffled masculine chuckle, the Heavy brought his bulky gun to bear on Bela, never slowing down his steady advance in their direction.

When the Heavy opened fire, for a moment Ethan's breath was caught in his throat as he dreaded his beloved Bela overestimating her endurance and falling prey to the overwhelmingly powerful projectile weaponry.

Yet his worries for naught as the supersonic spikes that would've made a mockery of any modern body armor went through her shimmering body without meeting any resistance.

Not making any boisterous taunts or flaunting her apparent invulnerability, the blonde Dimitrescu flickered her way towards the juggernaut; her buzzing swarm was unleashed and it swiftly engulfed both the woman and the Heavy.

While her flesh-eating insects could not hope to actually harm the juggernaut, as even unarmored parts of its suit were clearly made from reinforced material - most likely kevlar - they served different purposes with admirable efficiency.

A large part of her swarm went directly for a single large 'eye' the heavy trooper must've used as his primary source of visual input. The black-winged insects covered the sensor completely - possibly blinding the invader. Another 'wing' of Bela's bugs swarmed all over the joints and in between the armor plates - in an effort to probe for possible weakness.

Having learned what she could, while hopefully impairing her adversary, Bela made her move.

With undeniable grace and skill that could only be borne from decades of both training and practice, Bela's sickle sang the song of bloodshed. In the elder Dimitrescu's slender hands a simple farming tool turned out to be a formidable weapon, as it sought out the weak points of the armored suit - ignoring the metal plates, while striking at the more vulnerable kevlar material in between. Splotches of dark red blood were quick to appear after each such bite, indicating that Bela was strong enough to pierce even a reinforced fabric.

Like a beautiful butterfly herself, Bela danced around her hulking opponent as she struck out with her sickle again and again. The Heavy's lumbering swipes with his weapon were easily dodged in return - almost contemptibly so, if Bela's growing smirk was any indication.

At his inability to strike at the arrogant woman, the juggernaut was growing enraged, as his movements became more and more frantic. Discarding his bulky weapon, the Heavy started punching in rapid succession, meeting only air each time - Bela was simply too agile to be struck by his brutish blows. With a deep roar of anger that had a nearly demonic undertone, the trooper bullrushed with incredible - for its size and bulk - speed, hoping to splatter his vampiric nemesis against the wall.

Instead, only the wall itself met his forearm and the head, as the giant crashed into it violently; with chunks of shattered masonry flying in every direction.

Bela, who had sidestepped the brutal charge at the last possible millisecond took the opportunity to savagely hook her sickle into the trooper's vulnerable back knee. The roar of pain that followed implied that it hurt quite a bit.

At this moment, Ethan, who merely watched the onslaught his lover perpetrated, was truly astonished by the skill, power and the confidence with which she carried herself. A weird, likely inappropriate thought ran through his mind.

Nobody ever gonna bully Rose with a mom like this…

Bela herself, with some amusement gracing her delicate features, took a moment to lick the blood off her drenched sickle. The motion was almost sensual in the way she performed it, making another traitorous and clearly inappropriate for the life-and-death situation thought ran through his head.

She is unbelievably hot...

Bela clearly found the blood lacking in its culinary value, however, as she promptly spat it out, while making a grimace. Unfortunately, that was the moment the juggernaut decided that he had played her games enough.

With a grunt of effort, the damn thing stood up and swiftly rotated around. Only now Ethan could see a small barrel attached to its left gauntlet - which it directed right at Bela.

"Watch out, Bells!"

Even before his warning the keen-eyed vampire leapt to the side with haste, yet it was just not fast enough. A stream of compressed ghost-white, almost gas-like substance shot right at her. Most of it Bela managed to successfully dodge, yet a splosh of rapidly-evaporating liquid was now stuck to her right arm.

Ethan's heart jumped to his throat as he realized exactly what that gas-like liquid was.

Liquid Nitrogen… Bells is weak to cold… fuck!

As if confirming his grim thought, Bela let loose a piercing shriek of pain, as she fell onto her knees - clearly incapable of even standing, let alone shapeshifting into her swarm to get to safety. Every single bug that was even remotely close to the trajectory of the steam spray fell down in an instant - dead.

The juggernaut apparently was not interested in the notion of letting his opponent recover, as he readjusted the aim of his gauntlet, eager to put an end to Bela Dimitrescu for good.

Ethan would have none of it, however. His first instinct was to shoot the damn cryoweapon but unfortunately, hitting the gauntlet from his current angle was a near impossibility. Instead, the man put his body into a mad sprint to get in between them, even as he fired his pistol on the move. Predictably, the small-calibre gun was ineffective against the heavy armor the trooper wore, yet it bought Ethan enough time to get to his goal - right at the path of the cryogenic substance.

As liquid nitrogen covered his whole frame, Ethan's body went into an overdrive in an attempt to keep up his internal heat, yet the man never felt as cold as he did in this moment. As his skin rapidly developed frostbite and strength was sapped from his limbs, Ethan briefly questioned if this move was the wisest one, after all.

Bela is worth it…

Suddenly, as the father felt the deathly chill of the grave close by, his moldy heart began to pump at a rate never meant for the human organ. With enriched, overpressured blood rampaging through his veins, he felt stronger than ever - strong enough to overpower this freezing steam.

I've got you, daddy… get 'em!

Invigorated, the father fought through the continuous exposure to the bone-chilling substance and with clattering teeth, brought his Desert Eagle up. With barely human focus and precision, he aimed it right at the small tube that ran from the cryo-gauntlet towards a small tank on the trooper's back.

A single squeeze of a trigger later and the deadly weapon was rendered inoperable, as the severed tube splattered liquid nitrogen all over the floor. Ethan was not done, however, as he unloaded the rest of the clip into the Heavy's visor - cracking, but not shattering it. Nevertheless, even without suffering a penetrating hit, being struck in the head six times with a .357 round was enough to daze the trooper.

An opportunity like that was not to be wasted, so Ethan did something that he never considered doing before: he charged an armor-plated opponent that likely weighed three or four times more than himself.

A shoulder slam with all of Ethan's mass and considerable velocity behind it was enough to topple the unbalanced Heavy, all but knocking him into a wall. As luck would have it - it was the same wall the trooper himself smashed into before. The already-weakened structure could not withstand the massive bulk of the Heavy again and promptly collapsed; with the oversized soldier himself tumbling down - only to crash through the first floor's roof.

His poor shoulder cried in protest at such a grotesque misuse from its owner, as he gaped into a freshly-made hole in the wall and the roof. Wincing in pain, Ethan realized that it was not far from where Chris and the rest likely were. Sorry, Chris… guess you're the one who will have to deal with that fucking thing now…

With the immediate threat to their lives gone, Ethan did not waste a second further before checking up on Bela. Seeing her unenviable condition, the man hastily rushed to her side.

The blonde Dimitrescu was shuddering violently, as she curled up tightly in a desperate effort to preserve at least some of her vital body heat. The deathly pale tint of her skin appeared even more unhealthy than the one she had sported two years ago.

"God, Bells, are you okay!?" The moment the silly question had left his mouth, Ethan mentally cursed himself at the stupidity of it. Of course she wasn't, not with these blue lips of hers. Despite the fact that liquid nitrogen was a short-lived substance, especially during the reasonably warm French summer night, the man himself still shivered from the exposure - and he had no particular vulnerabilities to biting cold.

Ethan dreaded to consider how bone-chilling the experience had been to her, especially after recalling how a mere light ocean breeze was enough for her to cuddle under a blanket.

Bela struggled to level her gaze Ethan's way as she murmured out a slurred response, " 'm ffffffine. Jjjjust a lil' ccccold..."

Ethan cupped her cheek with his right hand, while squeezing her own opposite palm with his left. Both of his hands felt nothing but deathly chill at the contact with a normally pleasantly warm woman. The heart-wrenching sight of her shivering, cuddling frame evoked a momentary feeling of pity.

The way her slender hand gripped his own - so weakly, yet with a sense of desperation in it. The way her barely-moving tongue slurred out the empty reassurance. Or the way her eyelids started to slowly close, with even her violent shuddering stilling.

As he took more of her in, a sense of dread started firmly settling within his chest. Bela was not merely cold. With her body unable to maintain temperature needed for vital functions, she was entering a downward spiral. Bela was dying. She didn't need his goddamn pity. She needed his help.

As he huddled closer to her, Ethan's frantic mind desperately sought out a solution. If he had a lighter or something, he could've started a fire from some random wooden objects in the immediate vicinity. Of course he didn't. And there was no time to go anywhere, especially with the enemy combatants swarming the area.

As if inspired, a solution suddenly presented itself as Ethan recalled a conversation they had on the Duke's yacht.

Whenever we need a sudden burst of energy fast, nothing works better than a pint of fresh warm blood for us!

Shaking Bela awake, the man did not hesitate to lightly slap her cheek. Her voice was so meek that Ethan knew he had to act fast. "Mh...Etttthan? 'm so tired…" Even her half-lidded amber eyes lacked their usual clarity. The woman was fading … fast.

"Stay with me, Bells!"

Comprehension was lacking as she merely hummed something under her breath, before her eyes closed again. Gritting his teeth in frustration, the man did the only thing he could think of.

With a remarkable lack of hesitation, Ethan picked Bela's discarded sickle, before cutting his own wrist with the bloodied farming tool. The possibilities of exsanguination or infection simply did not register as relevant in his mind at that moment.

Hoping that her body's natural instincts would emerge from the bloody treat he was about to offer her, Ethan thrust his bleeding hand right before her nose.

To the man's endless joy, the lovely nose twitched in response to the overpowering aroma of his spilt vital fluid. Without opening her eyes, and shocking the man with the ferocity of the motion, Bela bit right in.

This time, she did not feed upon his blood with tender care and precise motion. Instead, the savagery of her starving mouth made the man bite upon his own lip in an effort to keep his cry of pain to himself.

The agony of her painfully human teeth ravaging his flesh; the vicious sucking motion that followed, was exquisite. Yet the man persevered, nevertheless; even finding his voice to make an attempt at a grim humor, meanwhile. "Ouch, Bells! Guess I shouldn't have expected that having a vampire girlfriend would be all sunshine and rainbows."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torment, the vampire had her fill. With her bloodsoaked mouth notwithstanding, the woman appeared to have entered a peaceful, restorative slumber. Touching her forehead, Ethan let out a sigh of relief as she had warmed up a bit.

With Bela out of the woods, Ethan had other matters to attend. Rose was supposedly attending Daniela's performance on the second floor - which was likely the safest location in the whole house, yet the father would not be satisfied until he saw his precious child unharmed with his own two eyes.

Leaving unconscious Bela just lying in the hallway did not sit well with him, however, so the man proceeded to carry her back to her room, bridal style.

Giving the woman one more loving peck, Ethan returned back to that blood-soaked hallway. Passing Charlie's pinned corpse, Ethan stopped at hearing the dead man's headpiece radio hissing to life.

"Charlie, you have to activate the device - these are fucking Replicas!"

Chris' voice was unmistakable, even despite its rushed undertones. Wincing in pain from his bruised shoulder, as well as mauled wrist, Ethan wrenched the headpiece from the man that was never going to need it again.

"Charlie is dead, Chris. Where is Rose!?"

A beat of silence passed before the captain responded, with a frightening amount of urgency in his voice.

"Goddamn it! I don't know, Ethan, but you have to get to the Dragonfly and activate the device that's in its storage compartment."

Ethan's priority lay elsewhere, however. "What I need is to fucking find Rose!"

The sounds of gunfire outside were slowly dying down - indicating that the number of combatants were steadily being reduced. Judging by Chris' voice - not in their favor.

"Ethan, listen to me now. If someone doesn't activate that device soon, we are all dead. You. Me. Rose. Bela. Cassandra. All of us."

Gritting his teeth, the father had no choice but to acknowledge the spoken fact. Chris wouldn't exaggerate the threat. "I don't even know how your fucking device looks like or how to activate it…"

The captain only scoffed, before responding. "You'll know it when you see it, and it's as simple as pressing a button." A sound of something heavy smashing through stuff was heard from Chris' side, before the captain let out a curse, "Oh, fuck! They've got Heavies, too! Stay alive, Ethan!"

The line went dark.

Cursing, Ethan's hand took a moment to relieve the pinned corpse of the several key items: a heavily-customized pistol, a couple of magazines, a combat knife and a small bottle of first aid. "Sorry, Charlie… rest in peace, friend." Ethan murmured, feeling awful for having to loot the still warm corpse of his comrade, yet not seeing many alternatives.

Without thinking, the father applied some of that magical green herb-derivative spray right at his ravaged wrist. The pain subsided almost immediately, with torn flesh mending quickly - leaving only a patch of red skin and a nasty scar behind - one more for his already extensive collection.

Not wasting any more time, the father rushed right towards the roof access - right where that fucking Heavy came from. On his way, he briefly considered picking up that bulky spike-thrower weapon the juggernaut had discarded, but thought otherwise - it would only slow him down.

As Ethan was about to reach the staircase, a familiar sound stopped him dead in his tracks. That alien electronic disturbance he had heard earlier - the same one that both Bela and himself found to be quite unnerving. He did not get to ponder on it for long, however, as the a window in the middle of the hallway shattered, making the man swiftly turn around, with pistol raised and ready to fire.

To his surprise, Ethan saw nothing. Just that same bloodied and ruined hallway, with Charlie still pinned to the wall that was opposite of him.

Daddy… we are not alone!

Eveline's voice was his only warning, as an invisible figure rushed to strike at Ethan. While in motion, a slight shimmering effect betrayed its position, allowing Ethan to dodge a pair of wicked blades at the last possible moment. A gust of wind, and it was gone again.

Turning around in near panic, Ethan was desperate to locate the assassin again, yet he could see nothing. The stealth capabilities of that thing must've been even more pronounced when it remained still, allowing it to remain undetected to all but the keenest of observers.

I'll help you see it!

A spike of pain in his head preceded an unfamiliar sensation, as Eveline attempted to take direct control of his visual receptors. Apparently this new 'boon' of hers was even more intrusive than her occasional phantasm that would visibly appear; Ethan felt like his head was going to crack.

Regardless of pain, the man swirled his cellphone turned flashlight around, until he saw it. Or, more precisely, he saw its figure roughly outlined in helpfully bright red, as if it was some kind of an amateurish comic book character.

The silhouette was attached to the hallway's ceiling and was slowly crawling towards Ethan, making the hairs stand up straight on the father's neck. In almost pitch darkness, with just himself and Eveline against that nearly-invisible deadly assassin, this was probably one of the scariest moments Ethan had ever experienced.

The man was sweating hard, yet biting back his fear he found himself determined to live through it. Collecting his resolve, in a blink of an eye Ethan had his gun pointed right towards the figure. Seeing the threat, the assassin attempted to pounce right at the father, yet the man was a quick pull with his trigger finger and filled the invisible fiend full of lead.

Charlie's customized USM-AI pistol had quite an impressive rate of fire, as merely one second later, the assassin's body fell right at Ethan's feet - with nine more breathing holes in it.

The critically-wounded assassin, now decloaked, appeared to be a male figure, dressed from head to toe in some kind of grey fiberglass-like suit - now covered by dark red blood. The figure still twitched, as he feebly attempted to get up, making Ethan unload the rest of the clip right into the man's head, ending him for good.

Letting out a deep sigh of relief at defeating such a deadly foe, Ethan quickly and with practiced efficiency reloaded the handgun. As he turned around to get back on track, a spike of indescribable agony rushed through his hand.

Leaping backwards - and seeing a twin blade slashing right where his head had been a millisecond ago, Ethan gasped in shock and pain, as a terrible realization came to him. The assassin wasn't alone.

And now, all he had to combat the next foe was his bleeding stump, as his right hand - cut at the wrist and still clutching the handgun - was lying in a small pool of his own blood.

Seeing his foe quite literally disarmed, the second assassin leaped from his place at the ceiling. Apparently, this one made an effort to stay out of Ethan's line of sight, unlike his colleague which trusted fully in his chameleon-like suit. With a derisive scoff, the second assassin punted Ethan's poor hand far away from the suffering father.

Clutching the combat knife in his left hand, Ethan gulped in thinly-veiled fright as he clearly saw exactly how badly outmatched he was in this scenario. Realizing that he would never be able to outrun the hyper-agile freak, the man found himself determined to fight to the death.

The assassin made no sound, yet the disabled camouflage and almost lax pose indicated amusement at Ethan's last stand. Slowly, the would-be murderer started to slowly, almost leisurely walk towards the injured father. Clearly, he was assured of his inevitable victory.

As the assassin ambled past the window, a piercing shriek of an energy weapon being discharged was preceded by a lance of bluish light striking the aggressor right in his side.

Ethan's eyes grew wide in shock as he beheld his formidable foe disintegrating faster than he could blink. In an instant the no-doubt expensive chameleon suit was vaporized, and a moment later the assassin's flesh was seared from his bones. One second more and where stood the assassin, only a charred skeleton remained, with electric sparks visibly running across its blackened bones. Another moment, and the skeleton - with no force holding it upright - collapsed in a heap, with black smoke trailing off it.

Carefully approaching the fallen assassin, Ethan dared to peek outside the window to witness his savior, while squinting his eyes to see through the veil of night.

From quite some distance, on a small hill overlooking the villa, stood the unmistakable tall but slender figure of Cassandra. The Dimitrescu daughter held a bulky weapon of some kind with her right hand, as she gave him a wave with a free one.

If Ethan still had his right hand, he would've surely returned the wave, as in that moment he wanted to do nothing more but to kiss that cruel woman in gratitude.

Suddenly inspired by his emerging gallows humor, Ethan promptly picked up his severed hand, before using the poor appendage to wave to his savior. From this distance, he could not tell if she appreciated or even saw his gesture, yet his knowledge of the brunette Dimitrescu's keen eyes, as well as violent and sadistic ways leaned strongly towards the positive.

Not wasting any more time, the moldy survivor repeated the procedure he had the misfortune of living through - several times, already.

Applying a fair amount of first aid spray to both stumps, the man connected them together - making his hand whole again. Using the rest of the spray around the bloody incision line, the father grit his teeth as his inhuman regeneration kicked in.

Try as he might, Ethan could not contain a scream of raw anguish as his bone melded, flesh and muscle knitted together and dead nerve endings reignited - flaring in unimaginable agony. Offhandedly, he noted that the lights in the hallway turned back on, yet in that moment, the implications were completely lost on Ethan.

It never gets easier…

Panting hard from the excruciating intensity of the process, Ethan took a moment to catch his breath, before giving his hand an experimental shake. It worked just fine, to his relief.

Having little time left to lose - as gunfire outside almost stopped - yet its brutal sounds coming from the first floor only intensified; Ethan rushed forward towards the roof access.

Soon the man found himself out on the villa's roof with his goal - the Dragonfly - in sight, a mere 4-second long sprint away from him, in fact.

Yet his palpable relief at seeing the Dragonfly hovercraft with his prize inside was soon replaced by an intense feeling of dread. Right above his destination, a large military gunship was hovering in silent menace. The moment Ethan's feet touched the rooftop, its decidedly-deadly looking under nose-mounted chaingun swirled his way.

Ethan felt strength being sapped from his muscles as his vivid imagination unhelpfully conjured an image of him being torn to shreds by the brutal weapon that now had him in its sights. Suddenly, a distance of a dozen yards appeared as infinitely long in his mind.

Frozen, the blood and grime-covered father could only hope that someone - anyone - would appear to lend him a hand.

---

Author's Note:

First thing's first - sorry for the big delay! Other than being absorbed into Dota 2 International, this was definitely the biggest chapter I've ever written. While a fun experience, I also found it to be quite hard to work with such a huge chapter, especially while putting on the finishing touches, so I doubt I'll write more than 10k words/chapter in this story again.

A little sidenote about the enemies the gang faced in this chapter, in case you're curious about how they looked like - I'd borrowed them directly from F.E.A.R. game series. The ordinary troopers (the one Daniela faced) are based upon FEAR 1' sniper Replica; the one Cassandra faced was an elite variant from the same game; while the assassins and the Heavy are based upon their FEAR 2 counterparts, with less armor for the former.

I was looking forward for quite some time to writing this chapter, so I hope it was an enjoyable read and I'd love to read any kind of questions or feedback you might have for me, my dear readers :) Have a great week and stay safe!