Rooftop | 11:20 PM.
Charlie's pistol fell out of Ethan's slackened grip. For all of his defiance, the man was still a realist, and he knew how worthless the sidearm was against this particular foe.
"A goddamn attack chopper… you gotta be fucking kidding me…"
As the man mumbled out the damning words, he mentally prepared himself to be torn apart by the high-calibre chain gun that now firmly had him in its sights. It would take a miracle to survive this. Not even Eveline would be able to put him back together if that weapon let loose on his feeble mortal flesh.
Clearly not interested in his prayers or hopes, the barrel of the chain gun sparkled as it let out a hailstorm of lethal projectiles - all missing their mark by a wide margin - not something Ethan considered possible at the distance involved. Shortly after firing, the chain gun itself exploded in a shower of sparks - making Ethan once again a believer in higher powers.
Awestruck, the man could only watch as the disarmed helicopter gained some altitude, before rotating around to face a threat Ethan could not quite see, thanks to the impenetrable darkness of the night.
Flabbergasted, but not one to look the gift horse in the mouth, the father made a mad dash towards the Dragonfly and the prize inside - the device that could save them all, according to Chris. Not wasting time, Ethan jumped right inside the aircraft's open side door, before slamming the storage compartment open.
A brief but likely irrelevant thought flashed across his mind, as he glanced around the small storage space. This is where that Anna girl hid out, huh.
And just like Chris said - the device in question was immediately obvious to Ethan's eyes. Composed entirely of some kind of dark-gray alloy; with a solid foundation, and a spherical body, it looked quite odd, especially next to ordinary military crates the rest of the storage hold was stocked up with.
The device appeared to have suffered some damage - with its stocky foundation having burn marks all across its surface. Still, it was seemingly functional, with a large cable running from a slot in its frame to a power transmission unit in the aircraft's guts.
Without thinking too much, pressing on a big red button, Ethan expected something marvelous to happen, yet only the device's display had lit up, showering the man in annoying warnings.
Warning! Accumulators 1 through 8 depleted! Alternative source of power available.
Warning! Gellar Suppressor unresponsive! Activating this Wade Projector will cause Class-SP hazard to occur in its immediate proximity!
Initiate Psychic Purge?
That caused father to pause - for just a second. The second message clearly implied that activating the device would be quite hazardous to his own health. Swallowing his fright, Ethan found resolve in the simple fact that Rose and Bela were in trouble, and according to Chris only this device could save them. His own health and well-being be damned, the man found himself clicking the "Yes' prompt that appeared on the display, only to let out a sigh of frustration, as the display message changed to a following one -
Charging, stand by.
"Fuck! Hurry up!" Gritting his teeth, Ethan could do nothing but wait as the device completed its charging up cycle. Every second it stalled, one of his friends down there could be dying… Mercifully, less than a minute later, the device - which was notably cold to the touch now, again changed the display message.
Confirm Psychic Purge?
"Yes!" yelled Ethan, as he all but slammed his fist against the display.
In response, the device let out a small hum, before it grew to an utterly deafening pitch, just to vanish completely in the next second - taking every other sound along the way. The sensation of all noise being vacuumed out was not a pleasant one, and Ethan found himself clutching his head in excruciating agony, before losing consciousness altogether.
Avenue des Caroubiers - five km. away from B.S.A.A. Safehouse FR-4 | 11:05 PM.
Millie knew something was wrong when their sedan crossed an intersection and the world around them succumbed to darkness. From her front passenger seat, the dark-haired woman warily glanced towards the unlit streets they hurriedly, yet carefully passed by.
While the majority of the locals had likely retired to their dwellings for the night, a large number of people - tourists and locals alike - no doubt unhappy because of their plans for the evening and early night being ruined by the blackout - were still milling around the darkened streets.
Worse yet, a number of minor car accidents had occurred, as tired drivers were taken by surprise by the sudden blackout that had affected the traffic lights as well.
Outside the car, confusion and chaos reigned supreme. Feeling anxiety crippling throughout her body, Millie risked a glance towards her cellphone.
No signal.
The unease that was tingling in the pit of her stomach turned into a full-blown fright at that simple message the screen displayed. Surely a localized blackout would not be able to affect nearby cell sites? Was this something more nefarious?
As her fearful mind started conjuring horrible scenarios, Millie couldn't help herself but to start biting her nails - a nervous habit she thought she got over. Glancing at the driver in a bid to draw some composure from her brother-like figure, Millie felt some of her worries melt. Tom is always so reliable… I am still shocked he actually met us on the airstrip only to drive us here himself...
"This situation arouses suspicion..." offered Tom, parroting the Duke's manner of speech - making them both burst out in laughter, before the man had to frantically swirl the wheel to avoid colliding with a speeding minivan, "Jesus! Fuck!"
"Whoa there, cowboy! I didn't sign up for this shit to die in a car accident." The remark came from the backseat passenger, who was casually lounging on the soft leather seat as he smoked his goddamn cigar.
Trying to wave the toxic smoke out of her face, Millie found herself gritting her teeth yet again at her newfound father's less than pleasing antics. During their fated meeting in Australia's Nowhereland, the journey towards the Alice's Springs airport that followed and the flight itself, Millie had plenty of time to learn about Karl's many quirks that left much to be desired when present in his esteemed company.
Still… the black-haired woman found herself eminently happy to be reunited with her blood relative. Not only for obvious reasons such as that he was her father, or that his powers would likely come handy quite soon, but for something else, as well. Despite his callous and aloof exterior, she could tell the rough man cared. Karl Heisenberg cared about his sister/nemesis Alcina Dimitrescu and her three adopted daughters. Perhaps, one day, he would care about her - his own daughter, as well…
Nevertheless, such musings could wait, as their car reached a remote road turn that would lead them right to the B.S.A.A. safehouse - which was blocked by some barriers with "Road Work" signs on them. With the car decelerating as it approached the barriers, Millie had a moment to glance at the workers having a smoke.
The workers in their hardhats appeared normal - at a first glance. At a second one, however, something distinctly unusual about their get-up and behavior became apparent to the observant woman. Not only were they lacking any kind of tools for their trade, but they also had a peculiar dangerous glint in their eyes, as well as their right hands close to their pants - where a combatant would normally have a concealed pistol holster.
I trust my intuition… and my intuition tells me that something here stinks...
The woman did not need to think upon this for long, before giving out a crisp command to her brother. She knew that he trusted her intuition, as well.
"Ok, I don't like this one fucking bit… Step on it, Tom!"
With some minor hesitation, the man let out a, "Uhm… if you say so."
Pressing hard on the gas pedal, Tom sent their vehicle into a roaring charge against the plastic barriers, easily breaking through them, while scattering the 'workers'. Looking in the side mirror, Millie caught a glance of one of them hurriedly screaming into a radio.
Karl was clearly not amused at being hurled around like a ragdoll in his backseat at the violent motion the car performed. "Damn! You kids are crazy…"
"Sorry, Mr. Heisenberg…" meekly offered Tom, still not used to being in the nefarious Lord's presence, but Millie was not listening to them anymore, as her attention was firmly fixed upon what awaited them at the end of this particular deserted road.
Their destination - the villa's large gates that lead to the private property - were smashed open, with a trio of unmarked black vans parked both outside and inside the property. As their speeding sedan got closer to the broken gates, a pair of black-clad soldiers took a step from behind the villa's ground's perimeter wall that previously concealed them and opened fire - as if forewarned.
In a show of dazzling sparks, the sedan's windshield experienced a rainfall of 9mm bullets that cascaded upon it - denting and cracking the bullet-proof glass, but not shattering it. Still, the horrifying display forced Millie to close her eyes and let out a shriek of fright. Being shot at was not something she ever was going to get used to - or wanted to get used to. She wanted to ski in the Alps and to sip on hot cocoa afterwards, goddamn it. I am so retiring after this… better be a waitress with a minimum wage than this fucking shit...
Still with her eyes closed as she considered the simple fact that she wanted to be anywhere but here, Millie experienced the following rapid sequence of events through sound alone. Tom's slamming the brakes - causing the high-tension screech as the wheel fought against the paved ground; a loud thump as if something very heavy just fell on the ground; a complete cessation of gunfire coming their way.
Opening one eye, Millie quickly saw the reason for the hostile soldiers' lack of further aggression - one of the vans that was behind the troopers somehow toppled over - right on top of them, crushing their lower bodies under its massive weight.
The mean chuckle coming from the backseat was quick to indicate the source of the anomaly, making Millie's lips split into a wide grin as she glanced backwards. She could never even hope to budge a 5000 lbs vehicle, let alone topple it, yet her father achieved such a remarkable feat with contemptible ease, if his cocky grin was any indication.
This was not a time for back-patting or amazement, however. Their customers turned comrades-in-arms were clearly in grave danger, and the trio of newest arrivals had to act quickly if they wanted to aid them. Exiting their vehicle, Karl, Millie and Tom risked a quick look around to assess the situation.
The two masked soldiers that were now feebly and fruitlessly trying to crawl from underneath the toppled van were an enigma - yet they demonstrated an inhuman level of resilience, considering that they were still trying to move, even while having their lower bodies crushed. Despite the vomit-inducing sight, the masked troopers were hardly the most terrifying aspect of the grisly scene.
Not far from the ruined gates, five corpses were lying in pools of their own blood. The dead bodies were dressed in casual summer outfits - which carried a chilling implication. These were no combatants, but a group of tourists who, most likely, had been simply enjoying a late evening walk and appreciating the local breathtaking scenery before the blackout had occurred. And because they were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, they were gunned down without mercy or hesitation - even in a death, the bloodied corpse of a girl was clutching a young man's hand - possibly her boyfriend. They were not even given a chance…
Seeing the callous slaying of innocents hardened Tom's heart. In an uncharacteristic fit of cold rage, the normally kind and composed man swiftly unholstered his .44 Magnum, only to deliver two deafening shots into the heads of the trapped troopers.
Having nothing to say at the sight of her brother-like figure executing two wounded combatants - not exactly in the mood to quote Geneva Convention at him, Millie gave a simple, but hesitant nod. She could probably count it as mercy kills, anyway...
Exchanging brief glances, the trio moved forward, entering the villa's courtyard - only to beheld a massacre of an even greater scale. The safehouse's grounds were a battleground, with almost two dozen of slain combatants littering the uneven and blood-soaked field.
The two masked soldiers that they had bested near the gates were merely sentries, it appeared - with the attacking force itself seemingly overwhelmingly numerous - having crushed the defenders, they were all converging on the villa itself. There were more than two dozen of them...
Karl, however, had no eyes for the enemy grunts who were flooding the large house. Instead, he focused his lifelike cybernetic eye - the one he had grafted onto himself during his long tenure in Australia, in a bid to stack up the odds in his favor in any further life-or-death confrontations he might find himself, such as this one - on one person who stood atop the villa's rooftop. Thanks to the little toy, even from that distance and in the darkness of the night, he could tell who that man was.
Ethan fucking Winters…
And opposing Ethan was a war machine of formidable proportions - a large, heavily armored and well-armed helicopter gunship. The deadly barrel of its nose-mounted chaingun was about to turn the man that had freed Karl from Miranda's grasp into mincemeat any second now.
Not on my watch, it won't.
Willing the electric organ that was right next to his heart to life, Heisenberg harnessed the power of electromagnetism that were his blessing and his curse. With decades of practice behind him, the man was able to focus the vast power that begged to be let loose into a single but precise ray of energy, that reached all the way from him to the distant helicopter.
With a mental tug - which his supernatural power replicated, the chaingun started to visibly strain under pressure as two opposing forces came to blows: the power of Karl Heisenberg that pulled hard on it, as did the power of its hydraulics that demanded it to stay on target.
The powerful vehicular weapon fired, yet the 30 mm shells went widely off-course as the hardened steel barrel of the weapon was being bent by the unseen forces. Sustaining critical damage to its own structure, from its own firepower, the whole weapon system exploded - making Karl's rough lips twist into a self-satisfied smirk.
I've still got it.
Apparently, the pilot of the gunship was not amused by the loss of his primary weapon, however, and somehow knew from where exactly the electromagnetic interference came. The gunship, bereft of its chaingun but hardly disarmed - as it demonstrated its missile racks - gained altitude and rotated around to face Heisenberg and his newest friends.
"Ehm… What do we do!?"
Heisenberg only scoffed at Millie's panicked inquiry. Instead of answering, he took a moment to appreciate the scale of the threat they now faced - not with mere eyes, but his other, more than human senses.
Over nine tons in weight, with twin turboshaft engines rated to support half again as much while traveling at subsonic speeds… Composed of advanced alloys of metal, plastics and ceramics… Damn.
Not liking what he felt, Karl realized that he could not hope to overpower this vehicle with his raw strength alone - he'd have to get creative - and fast, as the helicopter was clearly getting into a position to attack.
"Millie, cover me."
To his unvoiced delight, the young woman heeded his command immediately and leapt to his side. This was not the kind of father-daughter bonding moment he was expecting to have when he decided to embark on this foolhardy endeavour, yet it will have to do.
Taking a moment further to probe the aircraft for weakness - he had found it. The primary rotor was made out of almost pure titanium, with just a bit of steel to give the material extra strength. With a large surface area and agreeable composition, that was the part he could affect the most.
With a mental tug, the man pulled on the rotor with all of his formidable ferrokinetic powers behind him. As he attempted to stop the rotation of the blades, the resistance against his powers was truly immense, straining the man's concentration and focus to its very limits. Still, his efforts clearly bore fruit as inky-black smoke started to trail from the rotor, implying that the complex machine that operated it was reaching its own limit.
Unfortunately, in this state of hyper-concentration, Karl did not even see a single missile that launched right from the aircraft's right under-wing mount - guided to strike right against the straining - and therefore superheated Cadou mutant. Even with his own impressive levels of regenerations and mold-hardened body, surviving a direct hit from an anti-armor missile such as the one that was streaking towards him now was a simple impossibility.
The only one who stood between Karl Heisenberg and fiery doom was his long-lost daughter, Millicent Stout. The sharp-witted woman took his verbal command with utmost commitment, and she was not going to allow this missile to reach its intended target.
Stopping it dead in its tracks was out of the question - Millie's own electromagnetic organ - inherited from her father, but underdeveloped and shrunken at birth due to deteriorated and imperfect genetics - simply lacked the raw power to directly challenge the missile's rocket engine. Instead, the young woman focused all of her effort on merely adjusting the trajectory. Just a bit to the left, and they would be safe...
Yanking on the missile's nose with her long-reaching electromagnetic powers, Millie found her head and the cursed organ in her chest to resonate with excruciating agony. This was not a mere pen she was trying to manipulate anymore, but a rocket-powered engine of a military-grade missile. Still, she was determined not to fail her father, and put every single ounce of effort she could find into the telepathic yank. The missile's onboard flight computer fought against her efforts to adjust its trajectory and it took everything she had to not collapse against the pressure that was mounting inside of her body...
...The missile streaked right past their small company, searing her skin with its engine's scorching trail, before impacting one of the black vans behind them - exploding in a fiery inferno that consumed the whole vehicle.
To Millie, however, it barely mattered, as the agony of her overused unnatural organ proved crippling. With a gasp of shock, as blood was trailing freely from her numerous ruptured blood vessels - some in the nasal cavity, while some - far more dangerous - inside her skull, the woman tumbled to the ground.
The last three things Millie Heisenberg saw was her father - falling onto his knees from exhaustion of his own colossal effort; the helicopter itself - crashing into the ground; as well as a pair of familiar strong hands catching her own fading frame.
Music Room - Second Floor | 11:15 PM.
The lights were back on, yet all they achieved was allowing the musical room's sole standing occupant to behold the carnage to its fullest. From the unending horror surrounding her, Rosemary Winters wanted to do nothing more but to cuddle into a ball, cry her eyes and scream her throat out.
To her right, was a headless body of Emily Berkhoff - a tough woman that had, nevertheless, shown her nothing but kindness. And in return, Rose did nothing but watch as she got decapitated by a monstrous assassin. Now, she could not even force herself to peek at the severed head, lying some feet away from the neck it rightfully belonged to.
To her left, a pair of masked bodies exuded an overwhelmingly pungent odor. One glance at the mutilated, semi-crushed corpses and the viscera around them was enough to paralyze the poor girl.
Behind her, Lady Dimitrescu was entangled with the scary man that had attacked Emily and Daniela. Both the noblewoman and the assassin were prone on the floor, but only the lady herself showed signs of life as she tried to fruitlessly free herself from his deathly grasp. With the gunfire outside having stopped, Alcina's pained gasps were the only sound that accompanied Rosie's own whimpering sobs.
But the worst sight presented itself right in front of the three year old child. Her beautiful new friend - kind and cheerful Dani - was now lying in a pool of her own dark black blood; with a horrific gash in her abdomen, in addition to numerous smaller gunshot wounds peppering her mauled body. The redhead was not moving at all and her skin was rapidly losing color; she did not appear to even breathe anymore.
No matter where the tiny girl looked, only death and decay was there to greet her. No child should've ever been presented with such a grisly scene.
Few adults would've been able to keep their composure in Rosie's shoes, so it was not surprising that the poor child - overwhelmed by the sights, the smell and the sound of death and misery broke down. Falling to her knees, the girl let out a piercing cry of anguish as she grasped Daniela's cold, unmoving palm.
"No! Dani...Wake up! Please…"
The redhead did not move an inch, no matter how hard Rose cried for her or how hard the girl shook her hand.
"Daddy… Evie… we need help! Please… somebody, help Dani!"
Rosie's cries of desperation were not in vain. Like a demon...or an angel whose name was invoked, Eveline's phantom appeared.
The black-haired ghastly girl appeared distraught, yet whatever troubled her gave way to Rose's plight as she took in the situation. Upon seeing her friend, Rose was quick to let out a pleading murmur, "Dani…"
To which Eveline responded without missing a beat, "is dying…"
"No!"
Rose's shriek of denial shook even the ghostly girl to her core. The empathetic child, brought to the brink of despair, was about to fully break down, yet a single deathly-cold, yet familiarly small palm on her shoulder was enough to hold her together.
"Hold it together, sister. All is not lost yet." It was the first time Eveline referred to Rose with such a term of address, or spoke with such maturity in her tone, yet the tiny girl found infinite comfort in both her words and her ghostly palm on her shoulder.
"We can help her. You can help her."
"Me..?" The single whispered word was laced with disbelief, yet Eveline only scoffed at her younger sister's lack of faith.
"Yes, you, Rosemary Winters. You're more powerful than you think. Than anybody thinks. More powerful than I ever was..." Combining her inspiring speech with a shocking gesture - Eveline thrust her freezing hand right through Rose's heart, grasping the delicate organ in her immaterial digits. "Can't you feel it? The power that is your birthright? The mold calls to you!"
And Rose could feel it. That alien inky black darkness that was always somewhere beyond her sight, always lurking in the shadows. It felt wrong… inhuman… yet… It also felt like her. Like it was an undeniable part of Rosemary Winters. Her very essence. "Yes... I can feel it."
"Good! Now…" Evie's intangible hand retreated from Rose's chest, only to grasp her hand - to guide it to Daniela's mutilated body - placing it firmly above the terrible stomach wound, "...feel her mold! In her blood, in her heart - it's her everything! Just… close your eyes… and feel it!"
Nodding, Rose shut her eyelids tight and focused all of her attention on Daniela's blood smeared skin… and what lay beneath it. The mold, Eveline had called it. Rosie had heard daddy mention that particular word a few times - always with revulsion in his voice as he spat it out like a curse. And now she knew that It was that inky-black darkness inside of her. And it was inside of Daniela, as well. Was she evil? Were they both monsters..? It just didn't matter at this moment...
With her eyes closed, she could see it clearly. How it runs throughout Daniela's body, mixed in with her blood. Eveline did not lie - it was Daniela's everything. But it was not well. The living, oil-like substance was chaotic and directionless, as if it was in its death throes, as was its host. It coursed through Daniela's veins aimlessly, doing more harm than good in its panicked rout.
"You can fix that. You know where it has to go." As if reading her mind - she probably did - Eveline was quick to offer advice. And Rosie was as quick to heed it, for even her young mind saw the problem. The life-giving inky-black substance had retreated from the horrible gushing wound that was right above Daniela's navel. Instead, it fought its way towards her limbs, as if trying to escape its inevitable demise - to prolong its existence within the still-living tissue. Without direction, it was a simple parasite - unable to grasp the meaning of a long-term benefit over a short-term loss.
"Direct it back! Will it back!" Eveline continued to egg her on; her ghostly palm never leaving Rosie's own - feeling everything she felt, seeing everything she saw. It was a perfect symbiosis.
Not comprehending it rationally, but understanding the task on an instinctual, genetic level, the tiny child commanded Daniela's mold to return to the horrible injury - to plug the gap. FIX IT! FIX DANI!
And it obeyed. The mold listened to Rosemary Winters.
From Daniela's legs, from her hands, a stream of inky-black cells - each a living organism in its own right, rushed right back towards the grisly wound its host sustained. The animalistic reflex to prolong its existence was overridden by a will that was unknown to them, yet it was acknowledged as a superior directive without resistance.
With incredible efficiency, it started on its task. Converting the recently devoured blood and flesh of the consumed Replica Trooper into raw energy - the building blocks of life itself, the mold cells flooded the penetrating wound, each of them morphing, duplicating, growing to fill the gaps. Directed by a superior will and understanding their task, the mold cells worked in perfect unity and with incredible, completely unnatural speed. Shattered spinal column was mended first. Then the ruptured organ tissue was replaced by a new one. Torn blood-vessels were hewn back together. Mutilated flesh regrown whole, once again. Finally, the broken skin reconnected, leaving no trace of it ever being damaged.
And Rosie could see it all. How the mold worked its magic akin to a hive of bees - fixing her friend. Opening her eyes again, the child beheld the marvel she herself willed to existence. The once horribly-mutilated abdomen of Daniela now consisted of nothing but pristine, baby-soft skin.
"We are not done, yet!" Like a wise mentor, Eveline directed her hand up - now placing it firmly above Daniela's heart. It was not beating…
"Mold contains so much energy… so much power… free it!"
Rose understood exactly what she needed to do - somehow. Like if a stream of data went directly from Eveline's consciousness into Rose's mind. Even though she would never be able to convert it to words, she knew what to do, and that's all that mattered. She could save her friend.
Gritting her teeth in effort as sweat started to bead from her tiny brows, Rose willed the moldy cells around Daniela's heart to break apart. The energy that was unleashed was quick to arc in static around the delicate organ, before converging on a single spot - only to smash powerful, invigorating current right into it.
Beat!
With a shocked gasp of a drowning victim, Daniela shot her torso upright, as her wild eyes took in the scenery. But she was not the same person that the youngest Winters played with before...
Rosie's joy at seeing her friend alive once again was soon replaced by fright as Daniela's normally kind and joyful eyes held nothing but rage and hunger as she beheld her. The lovely full lips that were so often smiling gently down on her were now twisted into a vicious grimace, showing a mouth full of sharp, blood-stained teeth.
This was not the cheerful redhead that had played piano or violin for her, that told her funny jokes or engaged her in a series of hide and seek games - that had awoken now.
This was a merciless beast that had mauled and devoured the men that had attacked them. A blood-starved creature that knew nothing but hatred and famine. A monster. How many humans had met their end at her gnashing teeth or cruel sickle? Hundreds? More?
Am I...her next meal?
Rosie couldn't help but think such fearful thoughts as Daniela's feral amber orbs took her in. Frightened, the small child closed her eyes again, while cuddling into a protective ball and finally breaking physical contact with her redheaded friend who was now looking so very scary.
"..."
To her shock, instead of tearing her flesh with her teeth - like she had seen her do to these bad men, Rosie felt a pair of powerful, but gentle hands taking her into a tight embrace.
"...we... protect…"
The creature that was Daniela growled out a slurred statement, struggling to form words, as if human language was an alien concept to it. But it was enough for Rose to understand that her friend was still there somewhere; that Dani would never harm her. She felt safety, as if her father himself held her right now. The child smiled, while coiling her tiny arms around Daniela's torso. She was safe, and now - suddenly - so very tired.
"It's alright. What you did right now took a lot out of you...sleep now, sister and rest. I'll handle everything else…"
Eveline's loving voice was the last thing Rosemary Winters heard before the darkness engulfed her. With a cute yawn, the tiny girl fell into a deep slumber, content in the knowledge that she made a difference.
Unknowingly to now peacefully-sleeping Rose, Alcina had managed to free herself from her assailer about half-way throughout the nearly-magical procedure and was simply gaping at her in wonder as she did her work.
As she beheld the cuddling pair with utter astonishment, the countess finally understood what exactly Miranda saw in this child, seemingly so long ago. It was a miracle what she just did for her Daniela. But more than just healing her fading flesh, somehow, the youngest Winters managed to tame the inner beast that had plagued her beloved daughter for so long - something even she herself, her adoptive mother, struggled with.
The noblewoman felt tears prickling at her eyes as she edged closer to the huddling pair, taking them both in a loving embrace of her own - making sure not to cut her lovely dove with her still-elongated nails. Alcina found herself unable to retract the blades, but that just didn't matter at the moment. Her beautiful ladybug was alive and well… thanks to Ethan Winter's child… the child she herself watched taken apart with nary a word of protest.
"Mama…" the feral side of Daniela grunted out, relaxing in her familial embrace, nevertheless. And how Alcina wanted to shower the love of her life with words of affection and reassurance, yet her broken jaw would allow no sounds to part from her mouth. Instead, the countess merely tightened her hug, conveying the meaning through touch alone.
It's alright, my beautiful dove. Everything is fine… Sleep now, and rest. You both have suffered enough for today...my children...
Surrounded by nothing but death and misery there was love… and hope.
Living Room - First Floor | 11:15 PM.
In his long and storied career, Chris Redfield had faced, and indeed prevailed against a truly staggering amount of bloodthirsty critters that wanted to do nothing else but to tear the man limb-from-limb.
Ravenous but dimwitted Zombies and Molded; feral, yet eminently deadly animal-based B.O.W.s such as Hunters or Lickers; almost human-like in their intelligence and usage of tools Majini, J'avo and Lycans; towering, compounded threats such as Tyrants and various advanced mutations of aforementioned beasties; and of course, one could not forget the humans themselves, unpredictable in their treachery and cruelty - Chris saw them all, and lived to tell the tale.
The sheer variety of the monstrous foes the captain vanquished was mind-boggling. Very few living humans even came close to Chris in that grim count, and as luck would have it - one of them shared the very room with the bulky captain. The rookie cop turned international agent turned high-standing government official was no slouch when it came to deadly combat himself. By all rights, Chris Redfield and Leon Scott Kennedy should've been a nigh-unstoppable duo, but this day, they found themselves badly outmatched.
Their swiftly-concocted plan to hold the Replica Troopers back in the living room was put to a serious stress test the moment it left its inception phase. Borrowing the best of all worlds, Man and Monster, alike, the Replica Force eagerly demonstrated why so many considered them a premier fighting force in the current year of 2023.
A small explosive was used to blast open the entrance doors. The very next second, preceded by a couple of flashbangs, the Replica soldiers fearlessly advanced through the killzone the long hallway imposed.
Chris and his comrades, fighting through the blinding flashes and deafening bangs, had only two seconds to make their first move, granted to them by their defensive position.
In a show of nearly inhuman composure and preternatural focus, Chris unloaded half of his USM-AI's clip into the first masked aggressor who crossed the threshold - all of them clean headshots. The hockey-mask like faceplate of the Replica Trooper stopped the first three rounds, but the rest went cleanly through the weakened material, ending the soldier's life. The second trooper met a similar fate, thanks to Leon's own prodigious sharpshooting skills. The third fell prey to the combined firepower of John's and Dion's firepower.
Two seconds later, four more Replica had entered the premises, and in that very instant of time - assumed layered firing stances and responded to Chris' squad's firepower in kind. With their submachine guns firing in enviable synchronicity, the gang could only seek shelter behind their makeshift cover, lest they'd lose their heads.
While the four Replica provided layered - and therefore uninterrupted - suppressive fire, three more stepped inside the villa - these ones had bulkier body armor and were armed with shotguns; they immediately advanced forward, showing no emotions or hesitation as they stepped over their own dead. Peeking out from beneath the corpse of the Heavy he used as cover, Chris let out a curse, as they had no response to these enemies. The very instant they would get into melee range, it would be all over for the Hound Wolves.
No response that would see them all leave this place alive, that is. Making a mental prayer for a brave man that was about to trade his life for theirs, Chris simply waited.
As the bulky Assault Troopers reached the middle of the hallway that led from entrance to the living room, a deafening blast rang out, immediately followed by a hail of shrapnel and gout of flames that engulfed the shotgun-wielding soldiers. That was Douglas Holiday - with his legs permanently crippled and knowing that he was not long for this world anyway, the man volunteered to slow down the inevitable advance the Replica would make. With all of his men dead outside the grim man found himself not willing to carry the survivors' guilt. Therefore, the lone Delta Force survivor had played dead in the hallway since the start of this encounter, while clutching several live frag grenades.
"Now!" roared out Chris, determined to make the most out of the noble sacrifice. As his squad left the cover, they were astounded to find the Assault Troopers still standing - if barely - their heavier armor and enhanced biology protecting them even against point-blank explosions. But not from the gunfire of four avenging men who just saw their comrade give his life for their cause. The trio of bulkier troopers fell dead under the onslaught - buying Chris and his team several more precious seconds.
"Fall back!" ordered the captain, as his pistol clicked empty. With the dust and smoke from the explosions severely limiting the visibility, he had hoped that the submachine gun-wielding Replica in the back would hold fire, or at least lose of their accuracy as the squad retreated. They would have no such clemency and Chris felt a number of 9mm rounds impacting his body armor, and one - his left forearm.
Hissing in pain from the flesh wound, Chris nevertheless made his successful retreat behind the corner that would lead them to the staircase. John was not as fortunate, as a number of rounds struck him right in the leg, causing the large man to tumble down, while letting out a cry of pain. Refusing to leave a man behind, Chris swiftly leapt to John's side and used his healthy arm to drag his comrade to temporary safety behind the corner and then into the large space that held the staircase.
To the unbridled horror of the four survivors, the staircase was ruined; how and why would be the questions asked were they to survive the day. The practical concern was that climbing across the collapsed structure was out of the question, not with the enemies hot on their heels…
This sparsely-decorated and enclosed space was to be the site of their last stand, it appeared. Trading resigned glances with each other, Chris Redfield, Leon Kennedy, Dion Wilson and John Perlman prepared to give their opponents one last fight.
Quickly reloading their respective firearms, the gang had no opportunity to use them, as canisters that spewed out thick white smoke were hurled right into the space they occupied. The dense smoke quickly enveloped the whole area, severely limiting visibility to anyone without proper equipment - putting the defenders on an even bigger disadvantage.
Mere moments later, a rumble of heavy combat boots preceded an Assault Trooper appearing from the dense smoke, inches from Chris' face, shotgun raised and ready to pulp the legendary captain into a bloody mist. As Chris felt his whole life flashing before his eyes, destiny clearly said, 'not yet' and John, letting out a roar of hatred, leapt at the Assault Trooper's back, stabbing his combat knife into the Replica's underprotected neck, again and again.
But even John's ferocity and remarkable strength was not enough to kill the gene-enhanced freak outright, and with a crushing elbow strike, John was dislodged from the Replica's back - only to be immediately cut down by multiple submachine guns.
Seeing another of his men slain so brutally awakened the beast in Chris.
"No more!", with a vengeful roar, the captain leapt at the wounded Assault Trooper, smashing his fist into the cruel masked face, only to take the opportunity to brutally yank the shotgun out of the dazed Replica's hands.
Not missing a beat, the captain swirled his looted automatic shotgun around, only to unload it into the Assault Trooper - to gory results, as not even his bulky body armor was enough to stop the onslaught of metal pellets. Seeing John avenged in a shower of blood and viscera was not enough for the captain, however, as he - orienting by sound of combat boots striking the wooden floorboards in this blinding smoke - turned around the corner and immediately unleashed the firepower of the deadly shotgun against the approaching Replica.
Even without seeing his foes fall, their deathly gasps and grunts of pain were music to Chris' ears, but it was just not enough. 9mm rounds of their return fire peppered his frame, some stopped by his kevlar vest, others finding their mark in his flesh - burying themselves deep. With a grunt of pain, the large captain collapsed behind the corner, finding momentarily solace even as he bled from numerous wounds.
Soon, the sound of combat boots beating against the floor resumed, and Chris prepared to inflict as much damage as he could before they would be overrun. Truth to be told, he wasn't sure if 'they' was even an accurate term at this point. The smoke bomb reduced visibility to zero, and the captain had no idea if Leon and Dion were even combat-worthy at this point, but the lack of gunfire and moans of pain were telling enough.
Faced with the now inevitable prospect of his demise, Chris thoughts flashed to all the people who had trusted him to protect them, and how he failed them all, once again.
His own team, the Hound Wolves. Rolando 'Umber Eyes' Elba, Dion 'Canine' Wilson, Emily 'Tundra' Berkhoff, Charlie 'Night Howl' Graham and John 'Lobo' Perlman - all ready to follow him, the Alpha, into the very jaws of Hell - and he had led them right there.
Ethan Winters, whom he failed as a friend and as a guardian, so many goddamn times already. His beautiful, innocent daughter, Rosemary. The only consolidation was that he could not possibly fail their family ever again after today...
His old friends, sometimes bitter enemies, sometimes most cherished of comrades: Leon Kennedy and Jill Valentine. He'd butted heads on more than one occasion with Leon, but still, Chris had immense respect for the man and was proud to call him his friend. And Jill… his partner, the one who had already given so much because of his failures. And now, she will give her life because of his folly.
And finally, the most unusual of his newest acquaintances - the Dimitrescu family. Lady Alcina Dimitrescu, and her three daughters, to whom he promised protection and safety. So much for his promises… With particular bitterness, Chris couldn't help but think about Cassandra and their last kiss just minutes ago, so full of passion and emotions. The fierce, flighty brunette vampire somehow, against all odds, managed to steal his heart in such a swift and decisive manner. And now, in return, Chris will steal her life with his incompetence.
With no warning but the noises of stomping - interrupting his dark musings, a Replica Trooper appeared out of the smoke - this one sporting an unusual dark-red fatigues beneath his heavy armor. Gritting his teeth, Chris aimed his shotgun in a bid to take at least this accursed freak out of the equation, yet the trooper - in a show of jaw-dropping speed - battered the barrel away from himself, with enough strength to knock the weapon from the captain's weakened arms, before taking a step back and raising his own assault rifle towards Chris' forehead. The captain, wounded as he was, knew that any attempt to dodge or to interrupt the enemy was laughable to even consider. This was not the first time Chris found himself outmatched in a fight, yet it seemed like it was finally his last.
One moment later, and the freak would pull the trigger, ending Chris Redfield for good. But even when facing his own executioner, Chris did not cower or close his eyes - instead, the man glared right at the fearsome mask of his foe, expecting his own end to come the very next instant...
...any second now…
Nothing. The dark-red Replica Trooper simply froze, still aiming his assault rifle at Chris.
The realization that soon dawned upon Chris almost made him want to leap with joy.
Ethan… you did it! You actually did it! I'll owe you more than a beer after this one...
The bittersweet revelation of Ethan's success - when Chris himself acted towards the hardened father with dismissive derision once upon a time - was tempered by the thick smoke finally dispersing, showing the full picture of carnage.
Directly in front of him, behind the elite trooper, an Assault Replica was frozen in a motion to bash Dion's face with the stock of his shotgun - the redheaded Hound Wolf was already on the verge of losing consciousness, if his dazed and blood-smeared face that sported a broken nose was any indication.
To Chris' left, Leon was held in a chokehold by one of the lighter-armored Replicas - the man's face was red from the suffocating experience, as he slowly tried to free himself from the now hibernating strangler.
They were beaten and bruised… but they were alive. At least someone was.
With a bewildered expression directed towards a dozen or so Replica that were frozen in the hallway itself, Dion regained his wits and reached for his first aid spray. Meanwhile, Leon carefully and slowly - wisely afraid to disturb the hibernation trooper, escaped the chokehold. Grunting in pain, Chris himself followed the younger Hound Wolf's example and reached for his own spray, in a bid to address some of his wounds. He would surely need proper medical help later, but simply disinfecting his wounds and stopping the bleeding was instrumental for that 'later' to be possible to begin with.
A nasty, feminine giggle resonated across the otherwise deathly quiet hallway, shattering the silence and stopping the men dead in their respective recovering activities.
Before Chris could do anything, Anna's petite frame appeared from behind Dion and without any hesitation and with far more skill than what a stewardess should possess, plunged a kitchen knife deep in the man's unprotected side - in between the ribs and right where his heart likely was.
With a shocked gasp, Dion tumbled to the floor, and in that same instant, Anna relieved the falling man of his sidearm - again, demonstrating her uncanny speed and combat acumen.
Glaring at the small woman now, Chris could only curse at himself. With the pieces of the puzzle coming together and with the benefit of hindsight, it was so painfully obvious that this very woman was the saboteur. She was responsible for the sinking of the Duke's yacht and she was responsible for the Replica finding their safehouse. And now she was also responsible for ending yet another brave man who was foolish enough to sign up to serve under Chris. And Chris was the one who had let her in.
Chris Redfield was the one who had let the wolf in. At that moment in time, the captain almost wished Anna - if that was even her real name - to just shoot him dead right there and then. At least in death, he would not be able to fail those who trusted him ever again.
Instead, Anna merely smirked as she brought the gun up, with neither Chris or Leon being armed or in a position to do anything but to glare at the smaller woman, as she took a moment to gloat, addressing the captain.
"You've put up quite a fight… but then again, you are legendary Chris Redfield… Still, did you honestly think that same old trick will work again? Please…"
With a derisive scoff, Anna next took aim not at Chris or Leon, but at the Assault Trooper next to her - the one that was still frozen in the moment of when he attempted to bash Dion's face in.
Letting out a grunt of effort and finding strength where he thought there were none left, Chris got right back up and charged directly at the small woman - for if she took even a single shot at the Replica, they would all awaken and finish the job - finish all of his friends, his comrades, his loved ones.
Rationally, Chris knew how futile this latest gesture of his defiance was - he would never be able to cover the distance between them in the time it would take her delicate finger to squeeze the trigger. He still tried, hoping against hope that he would beat the odds once again.
Author's Note:
Both Karl and Rosie get to show us their powers here, and I might have taken some liberties with how I depict them - I still hope it was somewhat close to their canon (hard to say for Rosie, of course, since we haven't seen what she could actually do, but that's how I imagine mold manipulation could manifest).
Also, while I was a bit torn on whether Karl to have excellent distant and night vision due to his mutation or an implant, ultimately it 'does' make sense for him to 'upgrade' his own body a bit, so I went with him having a cybernetic eye, in the end.
Oh, and if you are enjoying my depictions of Dimitrescu siblings, I've started a new story which I've called "Obsession" - which will follow Cassandra on a little adventure that takes place 6 months before the events of RE8. It will be a Chris/Cassandra pairing ultimately, but I'll want to use that story to chew the scenery a bit - to explore how the Dimitrescu interacted with their staff and the locals before the fateful events that saw them all perish. That story will not be related to this one, but it will borrow some concepts, such as Dimitrescu Biology or backstory.
Sorry for the long note, hope you've enjoyed this chapter and have a great week!