Living Room - First Floor | 11:22 PM.
Anna - or more precisely - the one who pulled on her strings, could barely withstand the psychic shockwave that emanated from the villa's rooftop. For a second there, the puppeteer that held the poor woman's body in thrall felt genuinely afraid that the staggering force battering against him in that moment would overpower his tenuous grip on his host and launch his consciousness all the way back to Mauritania - where his own body still resided.
Ordinarily, even his formidable and rigorous training regimen, which pushed his mental fortitude and resilience to its very human limits, would have not been enough to withstand the volatile, otherworldly currents that pushed against his mind.
Yet he was prepared for it. The moment his eyes, or more accurately, Anna's eyes had fallen upon the Wade Projector Redfield's misbegotten gang of deluded misfits somehow had in their possession, the puppeteer knew that it would be an issue. Sabotaging the device was out of the question, as not only was it a rare and valuable find, but it would also give him away as the culprit. Instead, he was determined to withstand its influence.
In anticipation of psychic shockwave the device unleashed - the bodysnatcher laid down a mental anchor of a sort, at which he held onto during the brief but staggering storm that followed. But even with all his training and all the preparations, he had to give it his all to simply weather this unnatural storm that battered against every hijacked synapse. Even the unconscious effort that was normally reserved for his mental walls was rerouted towards that singular point to which he held for his dear life.
Were he not so focused on this monumental effort, he would have surely noticed a slight tingling at the edge of his mind - a tiny, insignificant presence, worming itself in through a suddenly open path.
Of course, he paid it no heed as he swiftly reassessed control of the host in the wake of the storm. Instead of probing his mind for any potential intruders, the puppeteer forced his unwilling body to make her way from her hiding spot in the living room, all the way through rows upon rows of hibernating Replica.
Truth be told, he could've easily made her pick a random gun from the floor and fire upon the closest trooper, nullifying Redfield's efforts and reactivating all remaining Replica - in autonomous mode that was barely any less lethal than their original half-slaved configuration - ensuing his enemies' demise. That would've been a practical and most efficient solution.
Practicality be damned… I will savor this moment… the moment legendary Chris Redfield breaks into that sweet despair.
He had to make the captain see the folly of his resistance. He had to stare into his eyes as hopelessness took over Redfield's visage - to see the strongest of men break was its own reward. Such exquisite despair was truly priceless, and he would not be denied of witnessing it, especially after all of his efforts.
And so, Anna made her way towards the stair hall and had little issue sneaking up on the exhausted and wounded trio of survivors that were recuperating there.
Too long has the body-snatcher personal bloodlust been left unsatiated. Dion Wilson was the perfect target to execute - not only the youngest Hound Wolf's back was turned to Anna, but his death - right in front of Chris' eyes - would've no doubt serve as a particularly painful blow to the captain.
Set on his course, the puppet was forced to strike at the one man who had shown her nothing but kindness and consideration.
No! NO! You can't make me kill him! I won't! I WON'T!
To his shock, the body-snatcher suddenly found himself in a small Russian village, with its inhabitants massacred by an experimental B.O.W. The rush of painful - agonizing even - emotions accompanied the grisly sight. Most normal humans would have been overcome or even completely paralyzed by the wave of grief, yet he simply shrugged the vision off - returning him back to the present. His own nightmarish upbringing hardened him against such trifling things.
Despite resisting the barrage of Anna's painful memories of her loved ones being slaughtered, against all odds, the body snatcher faltered for just a millisecond in his absolute control of her body. The momentary lapse saw Anna's knife-wielding hand adjust the trajectory of its strike - by a mere degree or two - not enough to stop the bladed weapon from finding its mark in Dion's side, but enough that instead of piercing in between the ribs and into the heart - like the puppeteer wished, the knife was partially deflected by a rib and stopped its course right under the man's heart.
From the sheer shock of the penetrating trauma, Dion still tumbled down like a bag of rocks, yet the puppeteer suspected that his wound was unlikely to be lethal.
While somewhat impressed by Anna's ingenious attempt at regaining control of her body, the mind-intruder found himself frustrated beyond words at his spoiled kill. With a remarkable level of vehemence, the body-snatcher was quick to return the favor to Anna - by assaulting her mind with the memories of his own childhood - filled with nothing but endless torment and wanton cruelty. The sheer horror of that vision was enough to completely subdue the young woman once again.
Regardless of this mishap, the fact of Dion's less-than-lethal injury was unfortunate, but ultimately irrelevant, as Anna - now once again firmly under the hijacker's control - swiftly recovered the falling man's sidearm. The Replica would soon awaken and slaughter them all, anyway.
Armed with that knowledge and feeling secure in his inevitable victory, the body-snatcher simply could not deny himself a chance to gloat, as he beheld Redfield's visage. Truly - just like his own mentor had once said - there is no despair sweeter than the one born from hope. In his arrogance, Chris was foolish enough to allow himself to become hopeful at the sign of Replica pausing in their assault. And now all that highest of hopes was crashing down, only to turn into the most delicious of despair.
And so much of it! The raw, unadulterated despair was radiating from the large man. Hopelessness seeped from Redfield's every pore - the grisly sight of his underling cut down right in front of him; the tardy realization that he was the one who had let Anna the infiltrator in; the undeniable knowledge of his outfit of misfits imminent demise.
The combination of it all was utterly soul-crushing to Chris Redfield - his agonized blue eyes showed as much. And the puppeteer savored it all - the captain's misery was truly a delightful feast to the sadistic body-snatcher, so much even, that a minor but alien presence in the back of Anna's mind went completely unnoticed, even as it picked both of their brains apart.
Now, with Anna's hand raising a stolen gun to shoot the nearest Replica, the puppeteer found great amusement in Redfield's desperate and hopeless lunge. Just a simple squeeze of the trigger, and it would all be over. No more second chances for this misbegotten rabble.
A simple squeeze of the trigger… with a finger that just would not obey…
It was not just the finger, either. Not a single muscle of his host was responding to issued commands. Suddenly, the whole world froze for the puppeteer, with Chris Redfield's savage grimace inches from Anna's own.
Was it Anna herself, trying to reassert dominance once again? No…
For seemingly an instant of time, no motion or sound pierced this flash-frozen world. The silence was quickly shattered by a girlish laughter, however, which was soon succeeded by a mocking sentence, spoken by a teenage girl, seemingly coming from every direction at once.
My my… I know it's rich of me to say stuff like that, but you… you're a real monster, aren't you? If your boss knew half the things you did in your downtime, he'd kill you himself!
The puppeteer realized what was happening immediately afterwards. The E-001 - Eveline has infected Anna, somehow.
When!? How..? … Of course, the goddamn wine!
And with his mental walls down, the infection managed to get inside of his own mind, thanks to the fact that it was currently interconnected with Anna's. The implication was more than a little gut-churning, even to the hardened and blood-soaked body-snatcher.
Heh, we are actually not that different... you and I - I'd love to chat some more, but I'm afraid my time in this body is out… and so is yours!
Like a sledgehammer, something had struck hard against the anchor he had built inside Anna's mind. His already tenuous grip was shattered, and he found his presence being expunged - fast, too fast for him to do anything…
Stair Hall - First Floor | 11:25 PM.
Chris could not believe that he had actually made it, even after tackling Anna's to the ground and battering the gun away from her unresisting fingers. Against all odds, he had succeeded in preventing this traitorous woman from reactivating the Replica - which would've surely doomed them all.
With bulging eyes, Chris glared at the smaller body underneath him and to his shock - Anna appeared unconscious. Whether from the impact with the ground with his mass behind the tackle, or from something else, it seemed that the infiltrator was out of the fight.
Gritting his teeth and breathing hard, the captain considered putting a bullet in between her eyes, regardless of her incapacitated state. This loathsome woman, who he had trusted, who he had let in - had betrayed them all from the start… because of her, so many had died… brave Delta Force men; his own Hound Wolf Squad comrades… God knows who else…
With shaky fingers, Chris brought Dion's pistol up, only to roughly shove the barrel against her forehead. Who could fault him for wanting to put an end to this vile snake?
"Don't."
Leon's calming voice and a firm hand on his shoulder made the captain pause, but not yield.
"Why? This fucking bitch deserves to die... "
"She does, but we might learn something useful from her. A deep-cover infiltrator like her must possess a treasure-trove of information…"
With a scoff, Chris conceded the point. No matter how much he hated this fucking bitch, she could still prove useful. They had the tools to poke around in her head and he could always kill her later, when her use had run out.
Knowing that his team needed his help now, the captain set on his next course. Quickly injecting himself with a Blue Umbrella combat injector - in a bid to pump some extra energy and adrenaline through his own badly-wounded body, Chris got back to work.
"You're right. Tie her up - so that bitch can't move a single fucking muscle."
Leon nodded and got to work on making some makeshift rope from spare clothing lying around; the smaller man started tying her up immediately upon Chris getting off Anna.
One quick glance at John's mutilated corpse and the blood pool underneath it was all it took for Chris to realize that the heavy weapon specialist was never going to get up again… John Perlman was a noble and stalwart soul; a physically powerful and intimidating man who, nevertheless, possessed a legendary composure and clarity of mind in life. And now, that man was just one more sacrifice on Chris Redfield's personal altar.
Overcome by emotions, Chris could not stifle a couple of tears from breaking through his hardened visage. Another of his comrades had just given his life for his own, again. Only one thought had prevented the veteran captain from breaking into a sobbing mess at the grisly sight.
The living need our help… The dead… can be mourned later.
"Argh…"
On hearing Dion's grunt, Chris - utterly ignoring the stock-still Replica all over the place - immediately leapt to the redheaded man's side, checking his pulse and letting out a relieved gasp, "He is alive! Thank God!" at Dion's somewhat stable lifesigns. Not wasting a second, the captain proceeded to treat the young man's injury; though even his blood-covered visage could not mask his jubilation that at least one of his men apparently survived this massacre.
As he provided first aid to Dion, Chris used his headset radio - which miraculously still worked - to address his squad on their frequency.
"This is Alpha, the hostiles are neutralized - avoid harming them at all costs and regroup at the first floor or advance towards the helipad, how copy!?"
The deafening silence of their response was utterly heart-wrenching to Chris. His Hound Wolves had trusted him fully, and he had led them to this slaughter… Not to mention Jill Valentine, Ethan Winters and Cassandra Dimitrescu, the latter of whom wasn't even equipped with a headset in the first place; but the fact that she still hasn't returned was telling that even that most formidable of beings had run into more than a little bit of trouble.
"Damn it…"
After a few seconds of deafening silence, however, a tinge of static was followed by some coughing, reigniting the hope in Chris Redfield.
"Umber Eyes here, cap'n… I am still at the rear entrance and I might need some help with that last order…"
Rolando was alive, if a bit delirious, if his slurred voice was any indication. Having stabilized Dion's condition, Chris needed no further incentive to rush towards the rear entrance - making sure not to bump into any Replicas on his way.
Quickly reaching his destination, Chris needed only a glance to paint a mental picture of what had occurred in this smaller room.
The entrance was likely barricaded by several pieces of heavy furniture - which were then smashed aside. One deceased Replica Trooper lay outside - shot dead by precision headshots from Rolando's sidearm, no doubt. One more was mutilated by an explosive force - likely from stepping on a tripwire mine Rolando had hastily set up. Finally, two more Replicas were already inside, but like the rest of their compatriots - frozen in silent hibernation, with their still frames training guns on a small, partially-concealed nook at the edge of the room. Some muffled, but clearly pained moaning was coming from that cranny.
Not thinking twice, Chris proceeded to check on the noise, the source of which turned out to be Rolando himself. The Hound Wolf marksman and Chris' second-in-command huddled in a corner, clutching a frag grenade - as if expecting to be killed at any moment, despite Chris' reassurance that the hostiles were neutralized. Rolando was in a sorry state, with his glasses missing; his whole frame covered by grime and blood; his right leg bleeding freely - despite the man holding his left hard over it - from a gun-shot inflicted wound.
Upon seeing Chris with his own eyes, the tense man's relief was palpable; his frag grenade cluttered to the ground, forgotten, as he mumbled out a sentence that made Chris' heart tinge with pain.
"I've held them off for as long as I could, cap'n…"
Rolando was clearly in shock - possibly from proximity to the mine's explosion or blood loss.
Another man was ready to give his life for our cause… Even though Rolando hated Dimitrescu, he would've died for them, because I ordered it…
With that agonized thought, Chris promptly got to the wounded man's side, in an understandable hurry to address the dangerous leg injury; even as he offered a reassurance - in a calm, composed voice, "It's alright, buddy, you did good."
Checking Rolando's injured thigh, Chris let out a muffled curse as he saw a ruptured femoral artery - this was a serious, life-threatening injury. It would require surgery to properly repair the artery, but for now, all they could do was to stop the hemorrhage. Hoping that the Blue Umbrella combat injector's synthetic coagulant was up to the task, the captain proceeded to jab his last injector right above the wound.
"Keep applying pressure here, buddy."
Rolando nodded, and placed both hands above the artery, pushing it close to the bone and hopefully restricting the blood flow enough that the injection would have the time to do its work.
"You're gonna be fine, brother… we are getting out of here."
Letting out a heartfelt reassurance, Chris proceeded to lift the shell-shocked man - in a way that saw his injury undisturbed and started to make his way back towards the wrecked living room.
Inside the living room where they made their first stand against the enemy, there were still a couple of frozen Replica, but much more surprisingly - a number of people Chris definitely did not expect to see here.
The familiar forms Millie and Tom - the latter carrying the former, who appeared to be unconscious - was a welcome sight. The Duke had nothing but praise and warm words whenever he would mention the duo, so Chris was inclined to treat them with respect.
The less familiar, yet unmistakable form of one Karl Heisenberg raised more than a single question mark and rang more than one alert bell in Redfield's head, however. The only reason the captain did not immediately reach for his sidearm was the simple fact that, much like Tom, Heisenberg carried someone in his scruffy arms. That someone was a person Chris found his mind unwittingly drift towards lately… to a degree some would find… unhealthy.
To say that Chris was happy to see Cassandra's chest rising and falling methodically would be an understatement. In the chaos and mayhem that followed in the wake of Replica invasion, he had feared the worst, even if he had no time to process that thought completely. She was clearly badly wounded, true - both of her arms were covered by deep and horrific burns...yet… she was alive.
Ever keen, Heisenberg was quick to note both the injury-covered captain and the way his gaze was directed. Letting out a derisive scoff, the mutated tinkerer offered an ultimatum in lieu of a greeting.
"Don't think I forgot about that stunt you pulled with my factory, asshole. You owed me one even before today, and now that I see the treatment my niece has suffered while under your custody, it's gonna be more than one... " Chris could see small metal objects starting to slightly vibrate around the living room, as the lord hissed out a clear threat, "...you better pray the other girls are in better condition...or you might not leave here at all."
Before Chris could respond, Tom beat him to a punch, "Please, Mr. Heisenberg. We are all allies here. It's hardly Mr. Redfield's fault these freaks attacked them."
Upon hearing the younger man leaping to his defense, Chris' first instinct was to refute that erroneous claim and take all the blame for this debacle - for it was his fault. As a commanding officer on site, it was his responsibility to keep everyone safe - which he neglected, by not screening Anna according to established protocols. Perhaps, all the bloodshed… all the deaths could've been avoided if only he had discovered her true nature sooner.
Giving Heisenberg an even glare, Chris had to reconsider. In his long but rapidly-diminishing list of people he would've referred to as "allies", Heisenberg would not have made even the last place, but now, with Tom vouching for him, Chris had to once again admit that this was simply not the kind of fight where he could pick and choose his allies. They were bound to have a heart-to-heart later, but for now, the priority lies in escaping this still-dangerous situation, and making new enemies by revealing inconvenient truths would've been most detrimental to that goal. He owed the living to do everything in his power to get them to safety, and if that meant working with this mutant freak, while concealing the inescapable fact of his own complicity - so be it.
So Chris Redfield kept silent about Anna, even though his better half screamed at him to take responsibility for his failure right there and then. Instead, the battle-weary captain offered a tenuous greeting, "Heisenberg… We'll have time to return each other favors later… for now, we need to get the hell out of here. There is no telling when these freaks will awaken, and trust me - you won't want to be here when they do. Our aircraft is on the rooftop; once we collect our wounded...and our dead, we will depart immediately."
Heisenberg let out another scoff, and Chris could tell that the man was itching to start a verbal fight with him, and perhaps a physical one, as well, but the scruffy tinkerer held his tongue. The metal objects stopped that unnerving vibrations and soon after, Heisenberg used his magnetic powers to return an overturned sofa back to its proper alignment.
Chris quickly took the hint and seated Rolando - who still appeared barely conscious or responsive - onto the large couch, while Heisenberg gently placed Cassandra on its other side. Not missing a beat, Chris helped to get another coach back to its original place, so Millie would have a place to lie down, as well. In the same moment, Chris tapped on his headset, "Leon, can you check on Jill in the basement? Just be careful - she is quite fond of setting up tripwires…"
Leon was quick to respond, "Sure, just finished with setting up Dion and our little friend here; on my way."
"Thanks…"
With Leon on his way to check on Jill and the wounded placed in more comfortable positions, the captain had a moment to gaze around the room in a search of an item that he knew should've been somewhere around. After a couple of seconds, his tired but still keen eyes found it - a small box with a red cross. With a quick stride, Chris got to their medical supplies, carefully maneuvering around a frozen Replica that kept silent watch right next to it, before returning back to the couches with his prize.
Rummaging through the box, Chris was quick to procure several items of value in their current situation - a gel made from Viridis Plantae, a couple of injectors of intramuscular painkillers as well as clotting agents; while Tom was quick to help himself to a more generic Blue Umbrella injector - good for stabilizing many combat-derived conditions, but hardly a cure-it-all panacea it was advertised as.
Glancing at Tom, who was swift to inject the Blue Umbrella formula into Millie's still frame, Chris himself hurried to Cassandra's side. The horrible burns on her arms likely induced excruciating agony, as even in unconsciousness, her face was twisted into an agonized grimace, with sweat falling freely from her brows.
Not thinking twice, the captain hastily jabbed a painkiller into both of her arm muscles - right above the seared areas. With tender care, Chris then proceeded to generously apply the gel to the affected areas of her arms.
Meanwhile, Heisenberg merely stood by and watched, with a curious glint in his organic eye, as he beheld the peculiar sight. He never expected this brute of a soldier who had ruined his beloved factory to provide such gentle treatment to Cassandra Dimitrescu, of all people. Still, he had to see to others, as well. "Where are the others? Bela, Daniela and the giant bitch?" Millie did mention that Alcina was not quite as imposing these days, but it was hard to let go of old habits, so Heisenberg did not correct himself, even as he registered that thought.
"Likely upstairs… This was a fucking mess…" Offered Chris, even as he continued treating the vampiric woman with furred brows and focused gaze - as if she was someone important to him, which was a laughable notion to Karl… but then again… what wasn't, at this point? Fucking cloned super-soldiers, frozen as if in stasis or deep hibernation. What the fuck did I get myself into…
Letting out a tired sigh - for he was tired, bringing that armored bird down was no easy feat - Karl marched towards the stairway hall, carefully maneuvering around the masked freaks. There were a lot of them, and they were all well-armed and quite clearly - deadly, so Heisenberg was most definitely not looking forward to fighting this kind of overwhelming force, especially since most of his so-called allies could hardly stand, much less fight.
Hope Millie's gonna be alright…
Heisenberg found himself surprised at that errant thought running through his mind. He was not one to get attached easily or swiftly, yet the girl had quickly grown on him.
Her metal-gray eyes reminded him so much of that one woman that had made his existence as Miranda's labrat as bearable… if only for a short while. And Millie had more than just Tamara's eyes… She had that same lively spark, that quick wit and that same sharp tongue… that same reckless determination.
Heisenberg never expected Millie to run herself ragged - but she did, for him, because he had asked her to stand at his side. She was clearly no stranger to her electromagnetic power and that meant that she had to know her limits. But she went over them, in her desperate attempt to protect him from that missile. And now, Heisenberg found himself determined to get both her and the Dimitrescu family out of this goddamn mess. He owed them all at least that much.
Briskly pacing through the stairway hall, the scruffy man paused to glance at the young redheaded soldier, who somehow reminded him of Daniela, lying on a small cot. In another corner, a young woman with a freckled face was securely tied by both rope and duct tape. That immediately aroused the engineer's curiosity, yet he had no time to waste.
Giving one annoyed glance at the broken stairway, Heisenberg leveraged his own inhuman strength to perform an impressive vertical leap, crossing the collapsed section with no issues - only to behold a trio of corridors.
In this unfamiliar villa, Karl had to navigate by smell alone, which was hardly a challenge in present conditions. Without much thought, the man briskly walked across the left corridor - the horrid stench of death and decay coming from that direction was truly overwhelming to his sharper-than-normal senses.
Before long, he got to what looked like a musical room, if all the sheet music lying around was any indication. This room had a number of mutilated corpses in it - some beheaded, some crushed, but what immediately drew his attention was a trio of women cuddling in the middle of it all. Like an oasis of life in a desert of death…
Daniela, he had no trouble recognizing - for she looked just the same when he had last seen her - maybe a little less pale. The small girl hugging Daniela's torso looked no older than three, and it took Karl a second to connect the dots. Rosemary Winters… even she is here… Jesus fucking Christ.
And the last figure - who had her back turned to him - Karl had the most difficulty putting a name to. Small, gaunt, with messy hair and ruined and bloody clothing, his mind simply refused to connect her with the enormous, always regal and haughty countess that was responsible for no small amount of grief that has befallen him.
But then, he noted that her right hand's nails were elongated into wickedly-sharp, eerily-familiar blades; he heard a soft Romanian lullaby she muttered under her breath, in that unmistakable voice.
Somehow, the desire to insult or belittle her did not rear its head today, unlike all the other occasions when they had shared a room. Instead, a mere whisper, laced with disbelief escaped his lips.
"Alcina..?"
Upon hearing his voice, the woman slowly rotated her head to stare back at him. Seeing her face - even with skin that looked a size too large for it and noticeably less of that attractive level of body fat she had used to possess - was enough to dispel his doubts.
That was his so-called elder sister, kneeling on the floor while cuddling the sleeping forms of Daniela and Rose.
This whole situation was beyond merely baffling to the genius engineer, and he simply stared back at her. Likewise, Alcina experienced a similar befuddling thought process, as her mouth rapidly opened and closed repeatedly.
Their long working relationship was a complex one, and this particular situation reflected it perfectly. In her amber eyes, he could see conflicting emotions that vied for dominance. Even though he was far from being a mind-reader, he could vividly picture the thoughts that raced through her mind at this moment.
Is he an enemy, here to gloat or even finish me off in his petty attempt at revenge? Is he a friend, here to offer a helping hand in these trying times?
As far as Heisenberg himself was concerned, the former was not entirely off the table...
"What, high and mighty Dimitrescu got nothing to say? That's new."
But today, he's going with the latter.
"Come on. Get up, we are getting outta here…"
Heisenberg wasn't sure if it was possible to repair the bridge between them that was burned long ago, but his single offered hand had to be a good start, if it was.
With some hesitation, Alcina detached herself from the kids she cuddled, only to slowly accept his offered hand, while murmuring, "Heisenberg… you fool…" with far less malice than she used to.
Bedroom #4 - Third Floor | 11:22 PM.
Bela shot up from her comfy bed with a start, her eyes wild as a wave of raw horror preceded by an otherworldly screech passing throughout her frame, leaving every single bone in her body chilled.
Breathing heavily in a bid to recover her bearing after this nightmarish experience, which duplicated the feeling she had in that Mauritanian ghost town, it took Bela several seconds to regain her situational awareness and longer still to recover her wit.
Still, despite the horrific awakening, the blonde vampire found herself feeling well… great even. Experimentally flexing her fingers, the woman actually felt stronger than ever, for some reason. The last time she had felt so effervescently was when…
"Oh…"
When she had dined upon Ethan Winters' delectable blood.
The memories came flooding back. They were attacked. She fought some giant armored monster. It sprayed her with some kind of freezing agent… liquid nitrogen, maybe? Regardless, It had hurt her badly… so badly, in fact, that she could've died… would've died…
...if not for Ethan's blood and flesh, which he had provided with no hesitation - on his own accord - for her.
Tears started to well up in her eyes, both from Ethan's display of incredible altruism, as well as her own callous ferocity, with which she had torn into his poor wrist. Like a cruel beast or… a monster. But, Ethan didn't even seem to mind. He even jested! Even as her sharp teeth ravaged his flesh, he had nothing but a loving smile and a kind word for her.
Ethan!
The sudden realization that he might still be in danger struck her hard. A mere second later her body - already dispersed into a swarm of flies - were speeding back into that ill-fated hallway.
In addition to Charlie's impaled corpse, two more bodies were now decorating the hallway, akin to some kind of twisted, macabre gallery - one of them was just a seared skeleton with nothing but blackened bones left. Bela couldn't help but wonder what monstrous weapon was capable of inflicting that kind of damage. Still, her keen flies wasted no time as they followed the trail of that delicious-smelling blood that led towards the helipad.
Outside, the swarm came together and Bela took a moment to behold the devastation. Freshly-slain corpses littered the villa grounds; a wrecked combat helicopter gunship lay some distance away, while trailing black smoke into the night sky; some dark vans were burning bright in the darkness further still.
Nothing but death and misery anywhere she looked.
It's like we never left Romania… is this legacy of bloodshed and murder all there is? Will we never find true, lasting peace? I can't give up hope…
Shrugging off her grim thoughts, Bela proceeded to follow the scent that led her to the Dragonfly aircraft. Hurrying inside, she was quick to spot the body of the man she came to love. Lying next to a weird-looking device of some kind, was Ethan Winters, calm in unconsciousness, once again.
"This is really becoming a bad habit, isn't it?" muttered Bela, even as she knelt and checked the man's pulse. It was strong - to her immediate relief.
Suddenly, Ethan's headset - which Bela didn't even remember the man having before - sprung to life, as Chris' familiar voice burst through the grating static.
"This is Alpha, the hostiles are neutralized - avoid harming them at all costs and regroup at the first floor or advance towards the helipad, how copy!?"
Bela attempted to respond - only to discover that the headset's mic was broken. Giving an annoyed scoff, the woman glanced back towards the villa roof access - determined to go and search for her sisters and mother now that she saw that Ethan was safe - but not before tenderly getting a hold of Ethan's left wrist - the one Ethan allowed Bela to feast upon…
Giving the freshly-healed but scarred wrist a loving kiss, the woman stood up, leaving the man to rest and recover. Turning around, however, Bela almost had a heart attack as a teenage girl she never saw before stood in the doorframe that led from the storage compartment to the rest of the aircraft.
"Futu-i!"
The girl in a black dress just giggled at Bela's shocked swearing in Romanian, before giving a polite curtsy and speaking, "Hello, Mommy!"
Bela could only stare at her, slack-jawed, as that particular and peculiar form of address was never used on her before, in all of her long life. Inspecting the girl's face, Bela had to reconsider that previous thought about never seeing her before - some of Rose's drawings that she had seen depicted a person that looked remarkably like this one… if drawn with a childish, inexperienced hand. The realization was quick to dawn upon the eldest Dimitrescu, as she murmured out a name.
"Eveline..?"
"Bingo!" The girl appeared genuinely happy that she was recognized.
Giving one more disbelieving glance at the ghostly girl, Bela, nevertheless, attempted to move past her, while murmuring her current priority, "As lovely as it is to finally meet you, my sisters and mother may need me… We'll chat later, alright, little one?"
"Grandma and aunt Dani are fine! Best Aunt Cassi also has to be fine! No way can anyone beat her!"
With no little amount of astonishment, Bela gazed at the smaller girl, who just giggled some more - clearly proud of that little information network she had established.
"Be that as it may, dear Eveline, I'd like to check on them with my own two eyes."
At that, Eveline just huffed and folded her arm, before shrugging her shoulders, as if saying - whatever.
Swiftly getting out of the aircraft, by chance, Bela glanced downwards, only to let out a gasp of shock at what she saw.
Down there, approaching the villa's entrance, was none other than her very uncle - Karl Heisenberg himself! And in his deceptively strong arms, he carried unconscious - but very much alive, if her slight movements were any indication - Cassandra.
"See! Told ya! She is alive and I'll bet a hundred bucks that she will be kicking ass again in no time! Cassie is such a badass! I wish I had a sister like her…"
Eveline was at her side again, grinning wide, even though the smile died down a little after her last sentence.
A bit more reassured by the relative well-being of her sister and appearance of Lord Heisenberg, Bela decided to investigate this phantasm a bit further, "How can I see you now?" It was a silly question, as Bela's bright mind immediately figured out the answer on its own. "Oh… It was Ethan's flesh, wasn't it?"
The girl just hummed, before offering, "You took a bit more than just blood from Daddy this time, haven't you Mommy? You're lucky he is such a nice man - I wouldn't be happy if someone just chewed on my wrist like that! Sheesh!" Eveline thought a bit more, before chirpily adding, "Good thing I don't have one, then! Haha!"
Having to suppress a small blush at the girl's 'Mommy and Daddy' references and a little bit exasperated by her overall cheerfulness - especially in such a morbid environment, Bela couldn't help but let out an admonishment, "Are you always this joyous? People have died here, you know…"
At that, the girl toned it down a little, before providing reason for her high spirits.
"I know… but everyone I really liked is still alive… and… " Eveline thought a bit more about that, even as she gazed at her own feet, before offering, "I am really glad that I was of help today…"
Bela had no idea what exactly Eveline had done today, but she imagined that with her capabilities, she could've done more than a bit. Regardless, her second reasoning appeared immensely cute and praise-worthy to the eldest Dimitrescu sibling, even if the first one was a bit on the callous side. They could work on that, later.
"I've met an evil man before coming to you… He is gone now, but he will be back - I know it. He wants to hurt you badly… you and Daddy. He won't stop. He doesn't know how to stop."
Eveline's unexpected revelation sent chills of fright down Bela's spine. Somehow, she knew that this mysterious person meant business from that simple but heartfelt delivery the ghostly girl did. Still, she was not going to be cowed that easily.
Trying to place a soothing palm on the smaller girl's shoulder, Bela found her limb going right through Eveline's intangible frame. Quickly suppressing discomfort from the unnerving experience, Bela decided to go for words, instead, "Whoever he is, I'll stop him myself. Nobody's gonna hurt Ethan again."
Eveline just sadly shook her head, before gazing at the taller woman and whispering, "You don't get it, Mommy. I glimpsed just a small fragment of his past, but... He's a real monster… and that's coming from me…"
Bela was not sure how to respond - she was quite aware that Eveline's tally rivaled her own. Still, after all the horrors they have been through - the ones done to them and the ones perpetuated by them… what's one more monster? With that thought, Bela had nothing but determination shining in her eyes, as she spoke with firmness that would brook no argument.
"I see. It is fitting then, that a monster such as that man will face monsters such as ourselves, don't you think, little one?"
Eveline froze, as she gazed into Bela's eyes. Half a century of horror and violence; a thousand condemned souls stared back at her.
Finally, Eveline smiled, but said nothing for a couple of seconds. At the child's silence, Bela was about to head downstairs to provide whatever aid was required, but before she could make the first step, Eveline's words made her reconsider.
"Daddy is waking up."
The suddenness of that exclamation made Bela immediately glance back towards the Dragonfly. Against her better judgement, the blonde woman proceeded to march right back inside its storage hull and to gaze down upon its sole occupant.
Just like Eveline had said, Ethan was slowly stirring awake, though it appeared that the dreamscape fought particularly ferociously for his attention tonight. Bela was quick to note that the man's lips were moving in a pattern that implied that he was mumbling something, yet no words had reached her sharp ears.
Genuinely curious, the blonde vampire lay parallel to the man, not bothered by the cold and hard metal floor of the aircraft. With their noses almost touching, she focused hard on the movements of his lips, but try as she might - she could hear nothing.
Suddenly, despite Bela doing her best to not disturb Ethan in his strange state, the man - as if feeling her presence - yanked his eyes wide open to stare right into her own amber orbs.
Whatever was troubling the man in his peculiar dream was quickly dispelled, replaced by calm tranquility as he simply gazed at her.
"Hey…"
Even though Bela was somewhat unnerved by this silent monologue Ethan seemed to be having in his dream-like state, his calming whisper was enough to fully set her mind at ease.
"Hey…"
A light shudder passed throughout her whole frame as Ethan - ever so gently - brought his arm up, only to tenderly caress her cheek with his thumb.
They both had so many things to say to each other, but perhaps precisely because of that, neither of them uttered a word - merely continuing to gaze into each other's eyes, instead.
Suddenly, a third - rough but amused - voice broke the tranquility of their love-induced staring contest.
"Well, at this point I am not even surprised by anything anymore."
Which was soon followed by a forth, bemused one.
"Really, daughter?"
Glancing up from their not-so-cosy spot on the floor, the two lovers found themselves staring at Karl Heisenberg and Alcina Dimitrescu. Both Bela and Ethan were quick to develop a slight but noticeable blush from the sheer embarrassment. With hasty speed that made Karl let out a chuckle and Alcina an annoyed scoff, the moldy lovers hurried to get back to their two feet, with Ethan only then realizing exactly who the scruffy man was.
"Heisenberg!?"
The man in question smirked at astonishment in Ethan's tone and expression, before tipping his hat in a clearly mocking gesture, and offering a greeting of his own, "One and only! At your service - well, since about ten minutes ago - when I had your ass bailed from the frying pan that chopper was about to cook it in. You're welcome, by the way."
For a couple of seconds, Ethan just gaped at the scruffy man, before giving him a wide smile and offering a handshake, as well as a heartfelt gratitude, "I appreciate that."
That was the second time Heisenberg saved his life, and Ethan was understandably grateful. While he had no idea what the hell the mutated engineer was doing here of all places, his presence was most welcome.
Karl was quick to accept the handshake - making Ethan wince from the strength of his grip. After exchanging the manly greeting, the engineer was quick to pronounce his need for a smoke and exited the aircraft to presumably do just that.
Meanwhile, as Bela was carefully inspecting her mother's hand with protruding nail-blades, Ethan stepped out into the aircraft's passenger hull. The sight of two passengers enjoying what appeared to be a peaceful slumber - while cuddling up to each other - was heartwarming to the battle-weary father. Seeing his precious Rosie and adorable Daniela taking a nap almost made the man forget that they all had just emerged from a vicious life-or-death struggle. Almost. Not all of us did...
Chris' grim-sounding voice, coming from the cockpit, returned Ethan back to the bloodsoaked battlefield.
"Anyone copy?"
Briefly checking his own headset - which he 'borrowed' from Charlie and finding it broken, Ethan stepped inside the small cockpit and responded to the captain.
"Ethan here, Chris."
The relief was unmistakable in Chris' voice, "Ethan! You're alright! Anyone else there with you?"
"Rose, Bela, Daniela, Lady D and Heisenberg - of all people. We are all fine."
At Ethan's response, Chris gave out another relieved sigh, before his voice became firm again. "Thank God so many have made it… but we need to leave - the sooner the better. Get Heisenberg and yourself down here - we are not leaving any of our own behind today - neither wounded, nor the dead."
"You have a destination in mind?" Ethan asked the question even before his rational mind registered it as less relevant than simply getting the fuck out of this villa.
Chris' response was just as swift, "Anywhere is better than here, but, yeah - I do - New York."
Ethan had a thousand questions burning on his mind, yet he realized that time was against them, "Alright, I am on my way down."
Even though Ethan had no idea what awaited them in the Big Apple, somehow it felt like the final stretch. Whether the ultimate success or failure - they would find it there - the father was sure of it.
The Connection's regional HQ, Mauritania | 11:26 PM. (GMT+1)
The pain of his consciousness being forcefully ripped out of Anna's mind was excruciating. Like a slingshot, it was launched far away from his host - all the way back to the distant tether of his own body, still waiting in Mauritania, 3000 kilometers away. Traveling through this kaleidoscopic realm of chaotic energy was always unpleasant, but doubly so when one undertook the journey unprepared.
Upon opening his eyes, Paxton Fettel found himself back in his own body. The first thought was one of relief - as not only had he apparently returned with his mind unscathed by the violent currents of the poorly-understood psionic subrealm, but the feeling of being back inside your own flesh was indescribably elating. Anna's feeble body was sickening beyond words, and Fettel cursed every moment he was forced to spend inside of it, yet...
The second thought was one of disbelief, which swiftly morphed into unspeakable rage, as the sheer impossibility of the event that had transpired had registered.
"I have...failed..?"
Impossible… This cannot be happening… this CAN'T BE HAPPENING.
With a roar of terrifying fury, the man stood up from his kneeling position - only to find himself in some kind of large office - likely, the director's office inside the The Connections' Mauritanian regional HQ.
Such details were irrelevant to the frothing man, however, as mindless fury completely overtook every thought process. With inhuman rage, Paxton grabbed a plasma screen from a nearby mahogany table - only to smash it into the wall. The keyboard was his next victim, as he savagely broke it in two against that very table. Panting heavily from insatiable anger, Paxton swept everything else off the table with a roar of rage, before picking up the table itself next - showing off his own inhuman strength with such a feat - before hurling it against the large glass window. With an ear-splitting noise, the heavy piece of furniture easily smashed through the glass barrier and proceeded to tumble outside.
But the enraged man was still not done, as he proceeded to systematically destroy everything inside that large, lavishly decorated office. No book was left untorn, no shelf unsmashed, no framed picture unbroken, no vase or potted flower intact.
Two Replica Troopers, clad in the reddish-dark fatigues and advanced body armor above it - denoting their elite status - stared at the mindless destruction with cold-blooded detachment. Neither a glance was traded, nor a nervous tick performed, as they simply gazed at their direct superior and his violent rampage. Theirs was not to question, and they knew their place well.
It took him several minutes, but eventually, the heavily-panting man found himself standing in an utterly wrecked space. Finally, having nothing substantial left to obliterate, Paxton paused, as he glared at his personal bodyguards, while considering his predicament. This was a major setback he had just suffered, but he could still fix it...
Taking some moment to regain his breath, the man whispered out a name.
"Mia Winters?"
The right Elite Trooper instantly provided a satisfactory response - in a typical for his kind emotionless voice, again proving how superior Replica were to worthless, loathsome humans.
"New York. She has agreed to oversee the final deployment of E-002 assets."
At least something was going his way. Paxton was sure that at this point, if he had to deal with that uppity bitch's defiance one more time, he would've popped her head open like a watermelon.
"Sebastian Hale?"
"Still here and awaiting further instructions."
Fettel was tempted to order that worthless coward's immediate execution. He was the one who had failed to apprehend these filthy bug-whores and the Dulvey survivor in the first place. Sebastian was to blame for their continued survival and advances. Sebastian was to blame for these miserable misfits ganging together and becoming a real problem.
"ET-36, Bring him here."
Not wasting a single breath on an acknowledgement or pointless formalities, the left soldier marched off without missing a beat. Black Ops Replica units such as this one valued efficiency above everything else and rarely bothered with such things, unless their commanding officer directly demanded it.
Before too long, the executive in question was pushed through the office's broken doors. Clearly, until a couple of minutes ago, Sebastian was enjoying a peaceful nap, as the man was dressed in nothing but white boxers. The tall executive was protesting the Replica's uncouth treatment of him most vehemently, yet his mouth was quickly forced shut as he beheld the destruction of the office, with chilly night wind from the broken blowing past his messy hair.
"Uhm…" tried Sebastian, only for Paxton to interrupt him.
"Shut the fuck up." Fettel leveled an even gaze at the taller male, only to consider his worth. By all accounts, Sebastian Hale was an abject failure - having allowed these filthy mutants to run circles around him for the last weeks. Ending his miserable existence would've been a trifle - a simple nod to the Replica Elite behind him, and Sebastian's head would be pulped into a bloody mess within seconds. Or else, Paxton could end this pathetic man himself - whether with his personal sidearm, a nearby sharp object or his own unnatural power - it made little difference, yet…
Paxton Fettel was many things - a mass-murderer, a cannibal, a rapist and a misanthrope of the highest calibre. But one thing he was not, was a hypocrite. Despite his burning desire to pile all the blame on this man's shoulders, he could hardly rightfully condemn him for his many failures… not after having failed himself. Not to mention that Sebastian could still prove useful...
Fettel turned away from the fright-frozen man, only to dispassionately gaze outside, through the broken window. E-001's parting words to him held dire implications. Apparently, the accursed bioweapon somehow managed to bypass his ever-present mental walls and poke in his memories. The information it could now possess was never meant to leave his head.
He could not go back to his master like this. Not with these filthy misfits still on the loose, and more dangerous than ever. And without access to his resources, he suddenly found himself at a disadvantage...
Without turning around, Fettel darkly muttered out an order.
"There have been some… complications. Find me the most unscrupulous mercenary company that operates in North America." At the silence that followed, Fettel turned around to glare at The Connection's executive, transmitting all of his hatred through gaze alone. Sebastian, stock-still from fright, could only mumble a meek, "Alright…"
At the taller man's submissive behavior, Fettel couldn't help but let a mean smirk spread across his face. He found himself determined to deal with all these wretched mutants himself. He would make up for his failure by personally attending to the problem. Redfield's merry gang's next destination - and therefore his own - was painfully obvious.
"And charter a plane to New York immediately..." Before Sebastian could open his mouth, in whether a question or confirmation, Paxton waved him away. As bereft of his pride as he was of his clothing, Sebastian simply nodded and trudged away, happy to leave the dangerous psychopath's presence.
With the executive gone, Paxton addressed one of underlings next, eager to satiate his wicked cravings, which were only amplified by his long absence from his own body.
"ET-37, bring me a woman for the trip ahead."
The Replica Trooper in question, familiar with the unnatural practices and inhuman appetites of his superior, did not question and immediately departed in search of an appropriate specimen. Even despite his repressed emotional state, the cloned and gene-enhanced soldier found a speck of pity crossing his mind for whatever unfortunate woman that would cross his path tonight. Still, the trooper would carry out his orders, as he always did.
Author's Note:
And this is the conclusion of the villa arc! Now we are on the final stretch of this journey, I want to thank everyone who stuck around - you're the best! :)
As always, I wish you all the best and hope you guys stay safe and healthy! If there are any questions/suggestions/critic/random ideas, feel free to leave a comment or to PM me! Have a great week!