Author's Note: All three parts of this chapter occur more or less simultaneously.
Nobody was as shocked as Bela herself that her little charade worked.
Before the convoy containing Mia Winters had departed and which Bela was determined to stalk, the blonde bug-woman had a sudden inspiration as her keen eyes spotted a single straggler. Not thinking twice about the swiftly-concocted plan, Bela had immediately leapt upon the unwary man, only to brutally choke the life out of him.
Somehow, she had expected the callous act to be hard to execute. Not in a physical sense, of course - for she was well aware of the inhuman power granted to her by her mold-enhanced physiology; but in a mental way… To take someone's life with your two bare hands - one could argue - the most primal and personal way possible.
After leaving Romania, Bela had vowed to become a better person - and to nudge her family in that same direction. To live and let live - that was her motto.
Of course, that was before her mother was abducted and her sisters hurt by the Connections and their cohorts. It was before she had befriended the men and women of the Charlie Team in the last three days, only to see them brutally cut down to the last.
As her powerful fingers crushed the masked man's windpipe, Bela peered down at him with nothing but malice in her amber orbs. All of his muffled pleas or pitiful gurgling went unheeded as the elder Dimitrescu sibling was set upon her course - to savagely butcher everyone who threatened her family. Mercy was a valuable concept - her beloved Ethan had taught her that much, but right now she was just not in the mood for it. Not when these masked murderers - led by Mia Winters of all the people - were about to take another try at her Mother.
Given enough motivation - and she had plenty, it turned out to be surprisingly easy to strangulate a man. There was no hesitation or moral quandaries that plagued Bela during this act of lifetaking.
Satisfied when the man ceased breathing and when she could no longer sense his heartbeat, Bela promptly took the bulky biohazard suit off the corpse, only to swarm herself inside of it.
And now, with her deception apparently successful and none of the slain soldier's comrades questioning her presence in their jeep, Bela had a chance to focus on her peculiar circumstances.
There were three more, similarly dressed and equipped, soldiers in the vehicle with her - armed with mixed weaponry. The car itself was moving in the direction of the makeshift HQ of the anti-Connections Task Force, established by Leon Kennedy, and of which even the reclusive Dimitrescu family became a willing part of… for reasons of their own.
Outside the car, the civil defense sirens were blaring loudly, implying that the viral bombs these strange men had deployed earlier got the city population's attention already. Glancing through tinted glass, Bela spotted a couple of civilians who were locked in a mad dash across the street, in a desperate gambit to reach indoors where some protection from the mist could be found, presumably. Discounting several such groups of stragglers, the previously choke-full streets were eerily empty. She could only guess that the majority of the locals were already safe inside their imposing structures of brick and stone. The alternative was horrifying to contemplate - even for Bela, so she didn't. Focus and clarity of thought was paramount if she was to succeed and Bela knew that even her hardened mind was not immune to occasional downward spirals…
So, instead of contemplating on the fate of hapless humans, she refocused her thoughts on another curious topic - the fact that the road chosen by these aggressors were mostly devoid of cars, as if this whole brazen operation of theirs was pre-planned in advance and arranged with the assistance of local authorities, to boot.
Truly, the Connections' reach knows no bounds… I just hope Ethan and Eveline were successful in their own endeavor… lest all of our efforts would be for naught.
Adding to sirens and distant screams coming from the outside were the sounds of explosions and noises of far-away gunfire - soon becoming a true cacophony of mayhem, forcing Bela to grit her teeth lest she'd lost her composure - which was being pushed to its very limits by the ongoing violence.
She wanted to escape violence, she truly did, yet it seemed to chase her no matter where she fled from it. In a way it was karmic, and Bela was introspective enough to admit that she deserved it all - that didn't mean that she was going to accept this perpetual cycle of bloodshed. She will merely tolerate it… for now - for as long as it was necessary.
Not every soul could be reached with kind words and soft gestures alone - she knew that much - and somehow she felt that the fine gentlemen that shared the vehicle with her were exactly that kind.
Despite the chaos happening outside, the present company continued their journey in ominous silence, with nary a word being exchanged between the four individuals. That all changed in several minutes, as the driver took a turn that saw the car move through a street with a particularly thick concentration of this cursed bluish mist. Surprisingly, the street was not as deserted as the others and many shapes were milling about in the dense, visibility-limiting smog.
Bela couldn't help but wonder if these were some carefree humans who didn't care about the unnatural mist, sirens and the loudspeakers screaming about seeking shelter, but then she recalled the immediate effect that mist had on one of the soldiers earlier - the one she had pulled a gas-mask from.
No way an unprotected human can just wander around in there…
As their car slowed down to make another turn, Bela had time to take in the features of the shape closest to them, to her horror.
The sad husk that stared back at her had less in common with a typical human and more with their own Moroaică - deathly pale skin, sickly gaunt features; complete lack of cognition or sentience in its empty eyes; snarling, frothing mouth and grasping hands to complete its feral disposition.
Bela sensed her hands involuntarily clenched into fists as she took in the ghastly visage leering down at her. She realized that this must have been one of the initial bombing location - with the hapless locals not having any time to react before the zombifying virus was upon them.
So this is the fate of a human exposed to this vile mist? And how many more are shambling around just like this one - not fast enough to find shelter in their houses? Thousand? Ten thousand? How monstrous are these men to commit such an abominable act upon their fellow humans?! And for what?!
What happened in the next moment only added to the pyre of righteous fury that blazed in Bela's mind - a single zombie stumbled in the car's path, only to be crushed right under the powerful vehicle's uncaring wheels - causing the occupants to finally break their vigil of silence. Bela expected to hear a gasp of shock or a curse, but instead was greeted by a round of gas-mask muffled laughter - cruel in its joyousness, followed by fanatical zeal-fueled mockery.
"Behold, brothers! The fate of all those who dare to defy the Great Cycle!" gleefully exclaimed the terrorist on the front passenger seat. Reminiscent of Cassandra, Bela's fingers twitched in their desire to break that human in half. She was barely able to restrain herself from doing just that.
"How foolish these complacent pigs are! Thinking themselves safe in their ivory towers! If this won't wake up the world, I don't know what will!" added the one next to Bela - sickening the blonde woman to her core with his nasal voice and vitriolic rhetoric. It was getting harder to control herself.
The driver said nothing, but snorted in what the Dimitrescu sibling could only decipher as assent.
Bela felt primal rage overtaking her senses, even as the rational, if somewhat self-hating, part of her mind tried to remind her that she was not the one to judge.
Suddenly, a shockingly vivid recollection from her grisly past came to the forefront of her mind - the memory of a particularly bloody chapter in the history of House Dimitrescu.
Almost thirty years ago, a young man from the village spurned Cassandra's affections, having an unfortunate side effect of the brunette sibling cursing humanity as a whole. On that day, that was preceded by a night of bloodshed caused by some peasants deciding to seek retribution against House Dimitrescu, Cassandra had fully embraced her monstrous origins, vowing to never allow her human weakness to govern her actions again. In her vicious zeal, the middle daughter became crueler by the day, terrorizing both their prisoners and their staff. It all culminated with her present for Bela's birthday, a month later - a whole batch of prisoners, deemed 'unfit' by Mother Miranda and therefore fully at Cassandra's mercy - of which she had none, at the time. In her desire to spread her misanthropic glee, Cassandra had butchered them all, while carefully squeezing every precious drop of blood… all to prepare a quite literal bloodbath for her beloved elder sister.
While distressed at the callous treatment of their prisoners, Bela did not want to offend her younger sibling by rejecting the so-called gift… so she accepted it.
And to her horror, she had found herself enjoying the bathing ritual in sanguine colors far more than she should've. It resonated with the deepest, buried part of her psyche. That little part that screamed at her that she was the apex creature - the predator and humanity was naught but prey that existed simply to serve as her amusement and sustenance. Something she had worked so hard to suppress, yet for that night, so long ago, Bela had been able to fully share in Cassandra's wicked delights.
But to share in one's mood was only naturally followed by sharing in their deeds, as well.
The maid she had tortured and consumed on the morning following her bloodbath - for the slightest of infractions - haunted Bela to this day. Even now, she could recall Nadia's skittish face and horror-filled doe eyes with perfect clarity, as if she was sitting right across her.
Please, Mistress Bela! I will do better! I swear!
No, little one, you won't.
The screams were unforgettable… as was the wicked delight brought by the power at her fingertips.
Back in the present, swallowing tears of grief that suddenly cascaded down her gas-mask covered face, Bela had to consider that perhaps she was in a fitting company after all. A monster belongs with the monsters, doesn't it? Violence begets violence and after all the bloodshed and murder Bela had witnessed in the last hours, that darkest part of her was once again rearing its ugly head inside of the blonde bug-woman. Could she really control it? By herself? Alone?
Alone in the darkness, how could one do anything but to succumb to it?
A monster deserves to die by a monster's hands…
Fueled by rage, Bela felt that same itch that had plagued her on that bloody day, so long ago. That wicked desire to tear these humans apart with her bare hands and to bathe in their blood. To engorge herself on every precious sanguine drop their feeble mortal shells would be able to provide. To consume the meat and gnaw on the bones.
Who cares about that bitch Mia, anyway… Surely someone else can deal with her? Cass will surely love to hunt her down… and Mother has enough guards to thwart whatever these filth are planning…
The loving sister and responsible daughter was temporarily replaced by a creature of dark passion and cruel desires - lost in the moment of seemingly impenetrable gloom and violence-induced insanity.
So strong was the urge to cease this pathetic charade and to succumb to her wicked temptation that Bela bit deeply into her own lip, drawing blood - only serving to agitate her further as she tasted her own life-giving fluid. Positively shaking in her looted Hazmat suit now, it was growing harder and harder for the eldest Dimitrescu sibling to resist the desire to abandon her silly plan to tail Mia and the strange man that accompanied her and to simply feast upon these foul, wretched, wicked mortals. Right now. With her bloodlust reaching its boiling point, Bela's hand grasped the hilt of her dagger, eager to enact unholy vengeance upon everyone who had slighted her.
They deserve to die… they all deserve to die!
You're better than this, Bela Dimitrescu.
It was her words, but his voice…
She was not alone. Never again.
Before the bloodlust could cloud her mind completely, Bela was struck by the sudden image of Ethan. He was smiling with love and affection. And he was smiling at her. These special words he had spoken to her, which meant even more to her than he could possibly know.
I love you, Bela Dimitrescu
This memory from their unforgivable outing into that French nightclub was enough to subdue the miserable gloom and bestial savagery that always lurked just beneath the surface and today was threatening to burst forth.
For all the horror and bloodshed in her long life, there was also something pure and innocent. A ray of light. The connection she had formed with that one special man - Ethan Winters. The man who had been able to glimpse past the monster - and he saw something good in her. Something worth preserving. And he grew to love her, and she - him. The bond they shared now, the happy moments of carefree joy with Ethan and his beautiful daughter Rose - were the priceless anchors that kept Bela afloat. More than just her, however, Ethan and Rose have affected the whole Dimitrescu family, calling the best of them out. Daniela was more determined than ever now to control her own beast - the most savage and unpredictable of them all. Cassandra grew to accept outsiders as more than just playthings - almost as her equals, even. Alcina herself - normally resolute in her misandric ways - seemingly accepted that silly man-thing and his little daughter, while showing remorse for their old ways.
There was more than just darkness and misery in the history of Dimitrescu after all. There was love and joy, as well - even if the shadow of their atrocities was always just around the corner. The mirthful games, the careless laughter, the harmless joy - such were the bonds of their sisterhood and the ties to their mother, even if they were less than natural - they were still real enough to Bela. But sometimes, it took a bright memory to remind her of that. A spark to light the fire to drive away the gloom.
Ethan…
Just his name alone was enough to see clarity restored to her mind. A content smile took the place of the savage sneer and her hand left the hilt of her concealed dagger - no longer craving to dismember these vile humans right this instant. They will get their due - she was certain of it, but for now, she will allow them to play the role of her unwitting guides, bringing her closer and closer to the prey truly worthy of her undivided attention.
What was I even thinking… I owe it to Mother to do everything in my power to defend her. Don't worry, Mother, this horrid woman will never place a single finger upon you ever again. And be certain of that, little Rose - I will protect you as if you were my own child… even from your own mother, if I have to.
Mia Winters… comfortably riding on the backseat of the sedan ahead of Bela's own. Mia was quite some distance away from Bela, yet the keen-eyed vampire could spot her unmistakable honey locks of hair, even through the tinted glass and the bluish mist that engulfed the whole area.
Through the lenses of her appropriated helmet, Bela's yellow eyes narrowed in predatory focus. The elder Dimitrescu sibling was always good at getting the best out of any given situation, and she was determined to ensure that today would be no different.
As their car started to approach its final destination and the noises of gunfire and explosions intensified, Bela was ready to dedicate her whole body and mind for the task at hand - for her family: Alcina, Cassandra, Daniela… and its newest members - Ethan and Rose. Even though the task in question itself appeared blurry to the blonde vampire, she was resolute to find a way to turn the tables on Mia and her cohorts.
I am coming, my family… just hold on!
Ethan was sure that this time, he was firmly on his way to meet his maker. Surely not even his moldy physiology or the uncanny good luck he seemed to possess would be enough to help him survive a fucking helicopter crash.
However, as was the case for the multitude of life-or-death events he had lived through and which should've surely claimed an average man like himself, fate had other plans for Ethan Winters.
As the metal screeched and groaned around him, Ethan carefully pried one weary eye open to see the reason for this delay before his untimely - but surely unavoidable - passing to the afterlife. For surely, the pulverizing impact with the uncaring ground, while trapped in this coffin of aluminum and considering the velocities and mass involved would be no less than lethal.
Yet dumbly gazing into the 'copter's illuminator, Ethan could plainly see that the eerily empty streets below them were not about to meet them head-on, as a matter of fact. Confusingly blinking his eyes, it took Ethan a second or two to comprehend the reason for the seemingly suspended state of the aircraft and when he did, the man felt like slapping his own face.
Of course…
Turning his gaze to stare at a passenger in the seat to his right, the battle-weary father beheld Karl Heisenberg. The scruffy metal-manipulator had his own eyes shut tight, a sneer of inhuman concentration etched into his face. With seemingly every muscle taut, every vein bulging and sweat running down freely - clearly, the colossal effort it took to keep their aircraft from crashing into the ground took everything Karl had, but to his credit, the ex-Lord performed the miracle that only he could with utter disregard for his own well-being. Even as dark red liquid started to trickle freely from his, already smeared with dried blood, nostrils and even though his whole frame shook with uncontrollable spasms, Heisenberg focused his entire being into that vital task of keeping the 2-ton helicopter from being smeared across the tarmac.
Nobody else inside the cabin said a work, merely gazing at the ferrokinetic mutant with awe in their gazes; the pilot himself did his best to direct the broken husk that used to be his vehicle to the nearest roof - thankfully, the semi-working primary rotor still allowed for a measure of control.
And just like that, the two men giving their all managed to land the crippled bird on a rooftop of the nearest high-rise building. The landing was rough - as expected, considering the lack of a proper helipad or the functional rotors on their aircraft - but nobody has died and that was a major win in Ethan's book.
Beaten and bruised, the Bravo Team plus the FBI pilot managed to crawl their way out of the wrecked chopper; with Dion assisting heavily-panting Karl and Ethan providing aid to barely-responsive Cassandra.
"Jesus Christ… and dear ol' dad said there are no such things as miracles! Well, it shows what the old fart knew!" mouthed Dion, with both shock and wonder plain to see in his wide-open eyes.
Ethan could relate to that sentiment. Their survival right now was nothing short of a miracle… but while the narrowly-escaped oblivion offered eternal rest, their continued existence demanded answers to such pesky matters such as who exactly was behind the missile attack on their chopper in the first place, as well as what the hell was going on down below. With that in mind, Ethan took a moment to inspect himself, as well as his comrades, even as he gently seated Cassandra on a nearby ventilation duct; the tough woman unusually compliant in her weakened state.
Gazing down at the wound in his abdomen, Ethan had to note that it looked raw and red, even though the injury seemingly mostly mended itself. The man couldn't help but wonder if his miraculous healing ability was slowly being exhausted by the continuous damage it had to repair. Regardless of that, however, the injury - while hurting like a bitch - was bearable and Ethan knew that he could still go on… Leaving a mental note to himself to have some medical professional inspect his injury later on - as it likely still contained the bullet itself, due to the lack of an exit wound, Ethan focused his attention at their sole female companion.
To his surprise and validating Karl's words, Cassandra was looking like she was recovering swiftly. Even though her whole frame was covered in blood - both her own and that of her human enemies; her expensive suit irrevocably ruined and her shoes misplaced - the creature underneath all these macabre details appeared stable. Her previously hectic breathing patterns were normalizing and shaking subsiding. After the basic first aid applied to them during their brief flight, the many deep gashes covering her body were no longer bleeding themselves - allowing Ethan to let out a sigh of relief at the fact that she appeared to be in no imminent danger. Still, it was a big question mark in Ethan's mind whether the fiery brunette was still combat-worthy after all the damage she took in their skirmish against the drones. Not that he had any right to ask her to sacrifice even more, after everything she had done for him.
"It's fine, Cassi… you did enough… I'll make sure to return you to your sisters and mother in one piece." Ethan murmured the calming words softly, while tenderly but firmly squeezing Cassandra's shoulder. In turn, the brunette sibling lazily lifted her head to gaze at Ethan, and through her blood-smeared and soggy locks of hair he could spot a hint of gratefulness shining in her half-lidded eyes.
In a peculiar twist of fate, Ethan saw this cruel woman - once his tormentor - as someone almost akin to his own sister, now - an older, crass sister. Giving her shoulder another reassuring squeeze and offering a calm smile, Ethan directed his gaze to his other companions.
The FBI pilot, whose name Ethan did not know, appeared just fine physically, if understandably shocked by their predicament. The agent was fumbling with his radio, presumably trying to get in contact with his superiors, which offered a degree of reassurance to Ethan himself. Being a lone survivor is all fine and dandy, but having a reliable authority to lean on during a time of crisis is a far better scenario.
Dion Wilson, once again showcasing his uncanny luck, appeared none the worse for wear. Tilting his head to the side, Ethan had a private moment of wonder, as he gazed at the younger man. The fact that the redheaded Hound Wolf just kept escaping all these life-or-death moments they were having with barely a scratch on him was a miracle in itself and Ethan couldn't help but feel a certain amount of envy towards him. Sure, having inhuman levels of regeneration was nice, but it was nicer still not to get wounded on a constant basis in the first place…
Then again, he did get stabbed by 'Anna'...
And while Dion appeared mostly fine, the person next to him was his polar opposite in that regard. Clearly, the combined toll the continuous use of his abilities took on Karl was just shy of incapacitating. Lifting their elevator cabin all the way up the Empire State Building, disabling numerous elevators and collapsing stairways, taking down a number of heavily-armed guards and culminating with preventing a helicopter crash was a damn long list of achievements, especially considering the quick pace of events. It was no surprise then that the metal manipulator appeared to be on the edge of consciousness after performing all of that. Even miracle workers could get tired, after all.
One glance was all it took for Ethan to know that Karl Heisenberg was not in fighting shape for the foreseeable future and that they would have to deal with this mess without the aid of his supernatural power.
"Mr. Winters?"
The FBI pilot's voice took the father out of his musings. Glancing at the agent, Ethan saw him standing near the roof's edge, gazing down below while holding a radio in his direction - inviting him to take it.
Not thinking twice, Ethan stepped up to the man and accepted the communication device, but not before sparing a moment to admire the scenery that was suddenly open to him.
In a way, for some primal and violent part of him - the one that would find the sight of a trainwreck beautiful - so was this scene of devastation breathtaking. And breathtaking it was, since Ethan suddenly found his lungs devoid of oxygen as a powerful gasp of shock forced it all out. It took a further moment for the man to recover his bearing and truly take it all in.
The deafening noise of civil defense sirens blaring all over the city; the eerily deserted streets of a once bustling metropolis, with few stragglers screaming and scurrying around to reach safety inside the nearest shelter or a biohazard-rated building; the malefic bluish mist, spreading like plague through the abandoned car-filled roads. An occasional explosion, blooming in relative distance, or a burst of automatic gunfire added to the cacophonous noise - becoming akin to a symphony of chaos to Ethan's damaged psyche.
And as Ethan listened even closer, he could swear that he could hear a certain groaning - not that produced by a single individual, but an entire, tightly-clustered mass of them.
Finally, seemingly carried by wind - of which there was none at the moment - came the ethereal, barely audible sound of girlish giggling.
Evie?
…
The bone-chilling noise and its implication stole all of Ethan's attention, as the man so desperately attempted to discover its source, but eventually he had to give up on that task to address the inpatient voice coming from the radio in his hand.
"Ethan? Ethan, you there, buddy?"
Chris' voice had a remarkably grounding effect on Ethan, allowing the father to realize that he was, as a matter of fact, hyperventilating, perhaps even nearing a panic attack. Focusing his attention on the radio, Ethan was swift to note that the gunfire he was hearing was actually coming from the communication device, implying that even the formidable B.S.A.A. Captain was in trouble. Yet, regardless of the calamity that had seemingly befallen New York City or the fact of their own lives being imperiled, Chris spoke with a stone-faced composure that allowed Ethan to calm his own erratic mind, though his voice still betrayed the anxiety the father felt.
"Chris? What the hell is going on?!"
The response came swift, showcasing the fact that the Captain was clearly pressed for time.
"It seems like there were some extra parts, moving in the background, which we failed to notice in time… I am afraid we got caught right in the middle of a bioterror attack, Ethan - one orchestrated by the Bloodfang."
That name was enough to chill Ethan's blood in his veins, and for good reason, too, as there were few organizations more nefarious in the whole world than the Bloodfang.
Originally a part of the New Horizon church - a new age religious movement which was born shortly after the Raccoon City Incident and gained massive, worldwide following as bioterror attacks intensified in the next decades - the Bloodfang shared its originator's ideology - the notions that 'humanity is the real virus' or that the bioterror attacks were the divine retributions for men's wasteful and sinful ways. What they didn't share, however, was the church's pacifistic and evolutionary ways, taking a more…proactive and revolutionary approach, instead. Far too extremist and militaristic for the church, they were eventually declared to be an anathema by the New Horizon, but that only emboldened the organization to commit ever more brazen acts of wanton terror and destruction.
Despite - or, perhaps because of - being outlawed and hunted worldwide, the Bloodfang were well-organized and extremely resourceful - with a number of major outbreaks in the last decade publicly claimed as of their own making. With no moral compass a sane human would be able to relate to and a penchant for causing chaos and violence, one would think that the Bloodfang would've been exterminated by the authorities quick enough, yet the shadowy terrorist group proved to be shockingly elusive and survived well into the 2020s. Even prospered, by some accounts.
The very notion of facing a Bloodfang terrorist was a nightmare for an ordinary civilian who just wanted to live his life in peace. Even for Ethan - who had survived through some truly unnatural fuckery - it was less than savory. For in a way - they were worse than his previous opposition.
Feral B.O.W.s were more akin to enhanced wild animals than anything else. The Bakers were more or less mind-controlled and did not truly wish any harm. Dire Wolves PMC were in it just for the money and in some primal way Ethan could even relate to them. Even the masked Replica Troopers were merely programmed and ordered to kill Ethan - they haven't truly hated him or even cared about him all that much.
But these people? They were fanatics. They hated Ethan and everything he stood for. The peaceful way of life he so craved for - to own a little cottage which he could share with his loving wife and a couple of beautiful little kids; to host grill parties with his friends; to work as a middling systems engineer and play some computer games or watch some TV shows in his free time and enjoy an occasional beach-side vacation - all this was anathema to these people; something they wished to eradicate with every fiber of their being in their wicked pursuit of their insane goals.
Ethan knew it all both from the news and his conversation on the topic with Chris, though the Captain was rarely eager to talk about such filth in his free time. One thing Ethan recalled was a particular notion Chris once postulated - that if Albert Wesker's activities and ultimate fate were public knowledge - he would indubiously become their hero and a martyr for their cause. Ethan knew enough of that vile man to have a clue about what kind of people would worship him.
In a way, the closest comparison to Bloodfang Ethan could make was the Priestess Miranda, his most bitter foe. But even Miranda had a goal Ethan could relate to, even if her methods went far beyond merely extreme and woefully destructive.
And now they are here… Ethan couldn't help but ponder whether it was some kind of cosmic coincidence or was the Connections behind the Bloodfang all along and now used them as their final trump card in their last ditch effort to eliminate the overwhelming evidence against them?
Somehow, the man felt like the truth leaned towards the latter and Chris' next words all but confirmed it.
"The fuckers had to have municipal support to pull something like this off… but I just don't understand how is it possible that they managed to get their hands on C-Virus…"
Another term that did nothing calming for Ethan's state of mind. C-Virus. Perhaps he was not hallucinating all that groaning and giggling, after all. The fear came back to gnaw on his heart, but Ethan was not afraid for himself anymore - the very notion that his loved ones were in such mortal danger was unbearable. He had agreed to see this folly to its end to ensure their safety, not to put them in even bigger peril!
"What about Bela and Daniela? Are they back with you, Chris? Did they make it back to HQ?"
The question was softly spoken, in a way that showed that Ethan was afraid of the answer. And the pause that followed did nothing to assuage the man's fears.
"Delta Team made it to HQ… We've lost all contact with Charlie Team."
Chris' words felt akin to an executioner's ax to Ethan's senses. Daniela was a part of Delta and Bela was in Charlie. Lost..?
"Bad news doesn't end there, I am afraid. A C-Virus bomb was detonated in the vicinity of HQ, implying the possibility that the Bloodfang are aware of it and might be making their move toward it as we speak."
Chris' spoken implication that Rose herself might be in danger forced Ethan to take a step back from his previous instinct to abandon everything and hurl himself at Charlie Team's last known location - the U.S. permanent Mission to the U.N. - to search for Bela.
Giving voice to his panicky thoughts, Ethan all but screamed into the radio, "Are you back at HQ, Chris?!"
The noises of gunfire, explosions and - most definitely inhuman - roars preceded the answer coming from the radio, "No… these bastards hit us hard at the U.N. building - they've got B.O.W.s, too. They were waiting for us."
"Goddammit..!" mouthed Ethan, terrified for his baby girl, "Can't you get National Guard there!?" tried the father, desperation plain in his voice.
"No. They are only concerned about quarantining the affected areas - as is their job. We are on our own - at least for the next several hours."
Suddenly, before Ethan could inquire further, a roar of an explosion came from the other side of the radio, followed by static. The line was dead.
"Fuck!"
"What the hell do we do now!?" fearfully inquired the pilot, clearly out of his depth. Likewise, Dion merely gazed Ethan's way, seemingly content to let the experienced survivor that was Ethan Winters to assume control of their ragtag group.
For a couple of seconds, Ethan merely gaped around, as erratic and conflicting thoughts rushed in his head. He was not used to being in a position of authority, especially in times of crisis, with real lives on the line. But he was a lone wolf no longer and somehow the man soon found himself ready to step up to the task at hand.
Several more seconds were used to assess the situation, with Ethan first longingly gazing to the south - where Bela and Chris still were. He could see the fires blooming and the bluish mist thick there. Gulping in anxiety, the father tried one more time to contact his adopted daughter, hoping that she would be able to reassure him of Bela's state.
Evie?
…
Evie, honey, please… tell me that Bela is alright…
…
There was no response whatsoever from the ghastly girl who came to be a stalwart companion to the weary father in the last month that had seen so many things change. The man felt unwelcome wetness starting to gather at his eyes as grim thoughts assaulted his mind. Two people he cared about… two people he had come to love - and he had no fucking idea where they were now or if they even were still alive. And the worst thing - he could do nothing for them, as Bela's last known location was simply too far away for him to blindly rush to; while Eveline's whole existence was beyond him by default.
Bela is the most resourceful person I know… she has to be alright! And Evie is probably just sleeping… but Rose is in danger! I have to help her!
Finding some comfort in the notion of Bela's resourcefulness, Ethan was resolute to get back to his Rose first and foremost. Glancing to the east, he could easily spot Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge looming ahead of the building they found themself on top of. They were not that far from the anti-Connections Task Force's HQ - which was an inconspicuous building right in front of the Rockefeller University. In fact, Ethan could see the university's campus peeking behind some other tall buildings in between them.
Normally, that would be considered a quick and simple walking distance by Ethan, yet as he gazed down into the misty streets below… or the shapes shuffling through it, the man found himself not so sure that this would be a distance easy to cross. Yet one thing he was sure of - his determination to do whatever it takes to keep his child safe.
"I am going down there."
Ethan's voice did not betray the inner turmoil the father was feeling in this moment, inspiring his comrades to raise their heads to gaze at him with disbelief. The pilot appeared particularly unhappy about Ethan's proposition.
"What!? That's suicide! We should sit tight and wait for the National Guard or B.S.A.A. to move in!"
Ethan could only grit his teeth in frustration, but after taking a deep breath, the weary father approached the pilot, read his name on his tag and spoke from his heart, "Look, Mike, I appreciate you flying us out of there, but that's my daughter who is in danger there! I can't wait for the help to arrive! Feel free to sit this one out."
"I am coming along, Ethan." Dion's voice did not allow Mike to even respond, but Ethan had already forgotten about him, giving a grim smile to the red headed Hound Wolf, instead. Seems like the young man was a true glutton for punishment, eagerly marching from one hellhole into another, regardless of risks involved or his lack of personal stake in it.
"Thanks, brother." Ethan spoke with genuine gratitude in his voice, before giving the younger man a solid handshake - which he returned with gusto, while giving his trademark carefree smile, as if they were not surrounded by death and horror of biological warfare.
"What about them, though?" inquired Dion, while motioning his hand at Karl and Cassandra. The former appeared utterly drained, and it was clearly just a matter of time until the Lord would finally succumb to his exhaustion. The latter, however…
Ethan could not see her face, as it was obstructed by her matted and bloodied locks of hair, but he could see the signs of her continued awareness in her tense posture and clenched fists. And even in her diminished state, the middle Dimitrescu sibling positively radiated malice, making the next words that left Ethan's mouth lack the firmness the man had hoped to put in them.
"This building has to have an emergency shelter. We could leave them there and Mike here will make sure they are taken care of."
Upon hearing that, the FBI pilot opened his mouth in protest, as taking care of two murderous mutants was most definitely not in his job description. Before he could voice his ire at the thankless task that was suddenly heaped upon his shoulders a vicious scoff forced the gang to focus their attention on their sole female companion once again.
Cassandra had not moved an inch from her spot on top of the ventilation duct, but murderous intent was as plain as dying daylight in her whole posture. Likewise, her voice was positively laced with menace.
"Leave me behind? Surely you jest, Ethan Winters."
Her quietly-spoken words sent shivers of fright rushing down Ethan's spine, as the man was all too keen to recall the inhuman sadism and unbridled violence that lurked beneath Cassandra's feminine exterior.
Not allowing him to respond, the brunette vampire stood up, perhaps too fast for her battered frame, as a hiss of pain was swift to remind the men about the gruesome injuries she had sustained not too long ago. Still, perhaps Cassandra was as good in taking pain as she was in giving it, and after a momentary pause to take a deep breath, proceeded to brush her hair away from her face - allowing her companions to take a look at her weary, yet still piercing amber orbs.
"Cass…" feebly tried Ethan, all too aware of the numerous deep wounds still pockmarking Cassandra's bloodied body, but the Dimitrescu scion would have none of his pity - as much was said by the cruel sneer and pointed glare, directed his way, even before her spoken words confirmed it.
"What." The fire of determination burned bright in her eyes. "I can still fight."
Ethan was not convinced. It was not a walk in the park they were going for, after all and what would happen if Cassandra - weakened as she was - was to perish in the upcoming hostilities? What would he tell Bela then? That he couldn't hold her hot-headed sister back and her death was on him? "You're wounded, Cass." The obvious statement was accompanied by a half-hearted motion of his hand, meant to underline the sorry state of the middle Dimitrescu sibling, yet Cassandra took it as her cue to prove him wrong.
Letting out a huff of indignation, the brunette woman marched right up to Ethan, invading his private space in her typical, nonchalant fashion; her eyes burning holes in his own, all the while. Once again, as their noses were all but touching, Ethan became uncomfortably aware that the brunette vampire had a couple of inches on him - the fact Cassandra was just as aware of, as she held her head high, while glaring down at him.
"You bastard. Those are my sisters down there. This is my mother down there." Nobody could deny the conviction in these simple sentences, not even Ethan, who responded with nothing but a muffled gulp. But Cassandra was not done yet, as she glared at the slightly shorter man with challenge and borderline derision.
"Do you honestly think that any weak little man-thing could keep me away from them, when they need me the most?!" There was this derogatory term Cassandra hasn't used in a while, accompanied by a scolding glare that would've sent a lesser man cowering under its intensity.
Ethan knew that to continue arguing would be more than just fruitless - it would be most harmful. Once again, the brunette woman assumed the role that was the cornerstone of her whole existence - that of the protector of the Dimitrescu family. She was happy to lay her life on the line for those she cared for. Moreover, Ethan was swift to realize that it was an open challenge in her burning orbs right now - for him. If he was to scorn her status as the guardian by dismissing her as unfit for combat he would not only lose all the painstakingly earned rapport with Cassandra but also earn himself a bitter foe. And he had enough of these already.
This was not an argument he could win, but even in his defeat, Ethan found a measure of solace - for few people were as reliable in a fight as was Cassandra Dimitrescu, as he came to know. Even wounded as she was, few humans would be able to match her ferocity or strength.
I guess I'll just have to do my damndest to make sure you stay alive, Cass…
Resolved, the man found himself able to meet her heated glare head on,"Alright, Cass." His lips relaxed into a small smile. "You win."
Cassandra's face remained locked in that combative expression, as she took great pains to scrutinize his own for any signs of dishonesty or deceit. Finding none, the bloodied woman was finally able to relax her sharp features before breaking into a cheeky smirk of her own. Letting out a subdued chuckle, Cassandra produced a characteristically cocky statement, "I always win." and proceeded to tentatively move - as if testing her own capability to do so - towards the still frame of her uncle, while mouthing, "Let's get uncle to that shelter and get moving already!"
"What about all your injuries…" meekly tried Ethan, once again motioning to the vast array of deep gashes across Cassandra's body, only for her to gleefully wave it all away. To Ethan's eyes, it appeared that the wounds were crippling at the very least, yet clearly Cassandra herself thought otherwise.
"Tis but a scratch!"
The shocking statement, produced in a cheeky tone, was a startling contrast to the otherwise gloomy atmosphere that settled around them. Somehow, that upbeat boast served to invigorate the waning spirits of the present company. It was hard to remain nonchalant when confronted by such an unyielding spirit - spitting in the face of the overwhelming odds.
Ethan senses his face relaxing in a small smile, while Dion actually lets out a subdued chuckle. Cassandra herself, however, clearly was anxious to get back on track, as she attempted to lift Karl's body - normally something that would've been a trivial task for the inhumanly powerful mutant, yet with her strength sapped by her ordeal, the struggle was plain to see. The deadweight that was Karl's unmoving shape implied that the Lord was finally out and Ethan found himself hoping that he would yet see that arrogant man's trademark smirk again. After all this nightmare was done and over, hopefully.
Not waiting for any prompts, Dion rushed to assist the weakened brunette vampire - Cassandra accepting his help with no complaints, other than a sour expression on her face - and together they managed to lift Heisenberg by his arms. Before they started moving, however, Cassandra let out one more quip, this time directed at the poor FBI pilot that was stuck with the gang of misfits.
"I trust that you'll keep my uncle safe, won't you, Mike?" The question was spoken in a perfectly neutral tone, save for the name - which was hissed out with undisguised malice.
Mike stuttered a bit, but hurried to take his place behind the duo, before offering a reassurance to the vicious brunette, "You can count on me, ma'am."
In response, Cassandra did not even look at the man, while speaking in a pleasant tone that belied the cruel words, "Good! It's your head on the line, if anything is to happen to him, after all."
Everyone present knew that she was not joking and Ethan could not blame Mike for going pale in the face. Cassandra Dimitrescu was one of the most intimidating women Ethan had ever met, and that quality was hardly smoothed by her currently blood-soaked and gore-splattered exterior. Therefore, nobody present judged Mike for the audible gulp the man let out as a response to the caring niece's open threat and the trio departed the rooftop in silence, with Dion leading the way, as the Hound Wolf operative was likely familiar with generic modern building planning and knew the possible location of a civilian shelter.
Ethan, however, hangs back for a moment to take a glance at the scene of devastation, one more time.
Fires burning in the distance, the noises of gunfire and explosions to accompany it. Right under him were the deserted streets and abandoned cars. Creeping, bluish mist engulfing the area - eating it piece by piece, like an insatiable beast. A menacing blood-red sunset, promising the imminent departure of natural light, only added to the grim picture. Gloomy black clouds seemingly reflected the city's overall mood and the sense of doom. Moreover, with visibility being as poor as it was, it turned out to be a real struggle to catch even a glimpse of the water surrounding Manhattan, much less the urban landscape beyond it - lending the illusion of being isolated from the larger world, only serving to unnerve Ethan further.
The morbid atmosphere was completed by the sounds - or more precisely - the lack of them, considering the location. The screams and yells that followed the initial outbreak have subsided completely, alongside the emergency sirens, now being replaced by the automated loudspeakers, monotonously repeating pre-recorded instructions.
As far as Ethan's eyes could see and ears could hear, New York City appeared dead - it was hard to even imagine that this was a bustling metropolis, a mere hour ago. Yet Ethan knew better than to believe that the entire population that had called the affected region of Manhattan home perished.
In the wake of the international crisis imposed by the ever-present threat of bioterror the civilian architecture saw numerous adjustments forced upon its established patterns. Most modern high-traffic buildings now incorporated a specialized shelter area and the civilian population was well drilled in its usage. Chances were high that even as Ethan beheld nothing but empty streets, the majority of the locals found refuge in such shelter, even if they were likely filled to capacity.
Within hours, the National Guard, assisted by B.S.A.A. reinforcements would start reclaiming Manhattan, block by block, but for now, everyone inside the borough was on their own as the quarantine was likely already in full effect. And Ethan knew full well that they had no time to wait for outside help.
No more time to waste…
Giving one more longing glance towards the U.N. headquarters, Ethan hurried to rejoin his comrades. While his heart bled for Bela and his mind was overcome with worry for Eveline, the lone father had only one substantial goal he could focus his efforts towards - protecting Rose.
His precious daughter was in danger and he'd be damned if he allowed these fuckers to touch one blonde hair on her precious head. He could only hope that Daniela, Tom and whatever federal or B.S.A.A. agents at the HQ would hold out before the so-called Bravo Team would get there.
Rosie needs me…
With that thought powering him, the father was ready to face whatever horrors awaited - whether men, machine or monster.
Just as was about to enter the building through the roof access, a peculiar silhouette at the very edge of his peripheral vision caught his attention. Turning his head around in interest, Ethan saw nobody other than him present on this roof. Still, a sudden chill caused goosebumps to appear on his skin. Feeling unnerved, but not willing to waste any more time on tricks of the mind, Ethan proceeded to return his gaze to the roof access, only to freeze in abject terror.
A girl, about Eveline's age stood there - in fact, Ethan could mistake her for Eveline - as she had the same long black locks of hair, partially obscuring her face, except he had never seen the aforementioned ghostly girl in such a bright red dress before.
Before he could glimpse more details, however, the natural instinct to blink his eyes from the intensity of such a powerful and unexpected stimulus forced him to do just that.
A blink of an eye, and she was gone like the wind, leaving the frantic man glancing around himself in a fruitless attempt to locate the girl in a red dress. A disembodied giggle - just like the one he thought he had heard earlier - seemingly coming from every direction at once was the only reward for his efforts, causing nervous sweat to start beading on his forehead.
Ethan had no idea who that person was, or if she was even real - or just a product of his overloaded mind and rampaging imagination; but one thing was clear to him - this phantom was not Eveline.
Suddenly, rejoining his comrades as soon as possible seemed like a particularly sound idea for more than just resuming their journey. Somehow, the idea of being alone with that… thing was simply unbearable to Ethan's mind and the father heedlessly rushed inside the building, desperate to rejoin his friends.
Daniela wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but her keen senses were kind enough to inform her that it wasn't anything particularly good.
Sirens blaring, people screaming and fleeing indoors, some kind of bluish mist spreading… truly, Daniela did not need to employ her title as the most perceptive of Dimitrescu to be able to put two and two together. An outbreak? Here? Now?
Thankfully, their sealed vehicle managed to make it to the building they used as HQ in their anti-Connection operations unscathed, though Daniela did spot several humans collapsing after inhaling a lungful of that bluish mist.
Entering the center of operations, the redhead couldn't help but ponder aloud.
"Could we have helped them…?"
Catherine - the B.S.A.A. field agent that had provided first aid to the battered Dimitrescu sibling during their trip from their mission - gazed at the redhead with genuine empathy plain in her brown eyes.
"We couldn't have done anything for them, Dani… It's the goddamn C-Virus… we are just not equipped to handle something like this…"
This short moment of comradery over shared empathy evoked conflicting feelings in Daniela. On one hand, she drew no small amount of joy from being referred to in such a casual - almost friendly - way. On another, the notion that it was all built on a lie made the youngest Dimitrescu nibble on her lip. Naturally, Catherine did not know the true identity of Daniela - almost nobody involved in this large-scale operation did.
The official story behind the Dimitrescu family was that they were all victims of the Connections - abducted and experimented upon; turned into B.O.W.s against their will, yet able to regain their humanity and now seeking revenge against their former tormentors.
A neat little story, which Daniela herself helped to invent, which portrayed them all in sympathetic light and allowed this inter-agency task force to function properly. Of course, all the grisly details about Dimitrescu's harrowing body count or their history of man-hating and blood-drinking ways were left unsaid.
And now, Daniela couldn't help but wonder whether Catherine would even deign to talk to her, if she knew the full truth of her past. Would this seemingly kind-hearted woman, who genuinely wanted to make the world a better place, be horrified by Dimitrescus' unfathomable crimes and blood-soaked past? Would Catherine hate her? Would she attempt to exterminate her, despite the standing orders to the contrary?
This series of theoretical questions briefly plagued Daniela's erratic mind, before the vampiric girl could reassess control of her own fleeting thoughts and focus them on her already existing issues.
We are already in plenty of trouble… I don't need to make even more.
First things first - Daniela was determined to check up on her mother. Cradling the unconscious and collared body of Sarah close to her chest, the redhead proceeded towards the apartment that was occupied by Alcina and Rose, not missing the belligerent glare shot her way by Catherine. The B.S.A.A. agent's mouth opened slightly - as if to offer a word of protest about Daniela not handling the mutated child over immediately - before closing shut again. In turn, Daniela offered the woman a small smile - genuinely happy about not getting into confrontation over Sarah's current custodianship, which the youngest Dimitrescu was determined to keep, at least for a while.
While, during their brief acquaintance, she found Catherine to be a pleasant and empathetic individual, Daniela was resolute to keep her newfound charge safe and that meant that she would only trust Sarah's fate to Chris Redfield, and only after the man would deliver her a solemn promise that Sarah would be treated with kindness and compassion - just like every child deserves to be.
Mama will love her…
The apartment building Daniela was making her way through now, once upon a time housed numerous perfectly average families. Several years ago, however, a large number of mysterious deaths that occurred inside drove the rest of fearful tenants out. After the official investigation, the obscure tragedy was blamed on an accident - much like the 'gas-leak explosion' that brought infamy to Dulvey.
When Daniela - ever curious - had inquired about the nature of the 'accident', all she received was a noncommittal shrug from Chris and an enigmatic "Who knows?" from Leon. Bela had only snickered at her youngest sister's unbridled curiosity, making Daniela huff and puff in overly-dramatic indignation. Alcina then proceeded to gently pat her red hair, while mumbling that sometimes ignorance is bliss, and Daniela decided to let the mystery rest… for now.
Regardless of Daniela's musings, nowadays, the entire property was government owned and served as a site for their less than public activities, and for the last three days - as the HQ for the anti-Connections Task Force, which saw B.S.A.A. working together with the U.S. Government, as well as some less savory elements, such as the Duke's faction and the Dimitrescu family themselves.
And now, as the chaos dominated the entire premises - with agents running amok while screaming indecipherable gibberish into their phones - Daniela felt the rest of her good mood evaporating swiftly. True, she had succeeded in her own task, but what of her family? What of dearest Bela, Cassandra and Ethan? As she finally made it to apartment #601, she hoped that at least her beloved mother would be able to dispel her worries.
Instead, even more mayhem awaited her inside the minimally-renovated and drab apartment. The first thing Daniela couldn't help but direct her entire focus was the heart-piercing sobbing coming from the living room. It was unmistakably Rose's and the little girl was already a beloved niece in Daniela's eyes, so it was not a surprise that the emotive redhead immediately desired to comfort the tiny Winters.
Entering the bland-looking living room with peeling wallpapers, Daniela let out a gasp of distress as she finally spotted the source of sobbing. Rose was sitting on Alcina's lap and crying her eyes out, while occasionally calling out for Eveline. In turn, Alcina did her best to comfort the child by gently patting her back and whispering sweet nothing into her ears, providing at least some solace for the poor child. Meanwhile, Tom, who also happened to be in the room, was listening intently to the communication device in his ear, with his gaze erratically jumping from the huddling pair on the sofa to the window.
At the young man's presence, Daniela's heart immediately experienced a measure of relief. Just like dear Ethan, Tom was able to peer beyond their monstrous veneer and see the deeply troubled, but perhaps, worthy of salvation individuals. Truly, the Duke's lieutenant was a person with a big heart, and to see him here, with her beloved mother in their hour of need, offered no shortage of comfort to Daniela's moldy heart.
In turn, the relief was palpable as Tom glanced at the doorway and spotted Daniela herself, "Dani! Thank God you're alright!"
The genuine emotion Daniela could easily hear in Tom's voice caused peculiar, yet not unpleasant prickling all over her skin. From his gaze, that was filled with worry and - dare she think - affection, Daniela sensed her toes curling in her shoes. It felt good to know that someone worried over her fate; that someone cared about her.
Staring into his beautiful soft green eyes, Daniela had to wonder if that was the color that once upon a time belonged to her, as well. Green suits me… does it not? Suddenly, the redhead just had to note that this kind and caring man happened to be quite handsome - even while realizing just how wildly inappropriate such a line of thoughts was in their current predicament. But the youngest Dimitrescu was a creature of spontaneous emotion who lived in the moment and therefore, she couldn't help herself as a slight pink tint colored her pale cheeks. Only her mother addressing her allowed Daniela to return from her rich inner world of fantasies to that dark and gloomy reality of theirs.
"Daniela, my precious baby girl! Words cannot describe the worry I felt over you, my beautiful darling!"
Turning around to gaze at the couch, Daniela felt her own worries return twofold, as she beheld her beloved mother huddling with Rose - the tiny girl's eyes were raw and red. Still, even though whatever troubles Rose remained, the child also seemed to find some comfort in the redhead's presence, as she mumbled out a weak but heartfelt greeting, "Dani…"
Even despite the turmoil raging within, Daniela attempted to project her typical carefree and cheerful front - in a bid to reassure and placate both her mother and her niece-to-be. She needed to be strong for them in this time of uncertainty. Without Bela or Cassandra around, she was the eldest daughter - the pillar of strength this family so desperately needed.
"Heya, mama! Never worry about little old me! And Rose - I know not what troubles you, but rest assured that any trouble can be overcome!"
Having let out what were hopefully encouraging words, Daniela moved to stand before them, eager to introduce their newest friend. For surely Sarah would become their friend, once whatever mental conditioning and obedience training the Connections imposed upon the poor child wore off, right?
"And this is Sarah!" The situation was a little bit awkward, considering the fact that Sarah herself was still incapacitated and collared like a wild beast - not to mention the overall mess they happened to find themselves in, but Daniela tried to make the best out of the situation, nevertheless. Letting out an awkward giggle, the redhead continued in a joyous tone that was just a bit forced, "She is a little bit… indisposed right now, but I am sure we will be the greatest of friends in no time! Poor Rosie must have missed having kids closer to her age around!"
At their dumbstruck silence, Daniela launched into a fit of awkward laughter that was soon interrupted by an explosion - coming from right outside their apartment building.
"Shit!"
The explosion was immediately succeeded by the violent shuddering of the whole apartment complex, causing both Daniela and Tom to lose their footing. While Tom managed to catch himself at the last moment by finding some support from the nearby windowsill, Daniela had no such luck. To avoid harming Sarah, the redhead moved with the motion that saw her plop right on her buttocks, while keeping the child close to her chest in a protective embrace.
"Ouch!"
Before either Tom or Daniela could regain their footing, the noises and flashes of gunfire broke through the darkness of the misty evening, causing an annoyed sneer to sprout on Daniela's bloodied face.
When will it all end?
Tom attempted to carefully peer into the window, while trying to yell over the thundering roar of automatic gunfire, "It must be the culprits behind the outbreak! How the fuck could they know about this place?!"
Alcina glared at the young man with clear disapproval in her gaze - the woman was notoriously strict when it came to foul language, and that particular quality was only intensified by the presence of little Rose in her own protective embrace. Still, after considering the extraordinary circumstances, the noble lady likely wisely decided not to scold him over it right now.
"There are so many of them…" continued Tom, unaware of how close he came to the scolding of his life, courtesy of Lady Dimitrescu. Unfortunately, someone must have caught on the light inside their apartment, as a high-powered round whizzed right through the closed window and the apartment's space, only to vanish somewhere deep within the dirty wall on the other side of the room.
With a yelp of pain that was lost amidst the noise of the shattered glass, Tom tumbled to the floor and Daniela's heart leapt to her throat from fright for this kind young man, fearing the worst. Her keen vampiric senses were quick to catch the scent of freshly spilled man-blood and to her great shame the desire to feed immediately reared its unwelcome head inside of her. Still, it took less than a second for Daniela to momentarily suppress her inner beast and allow her human side to let out a worried cry.
"Tom!"
Thankfully, it appeared that the man suffered a mere glancing hit, with the bullet tearing off only a portion of his left ear's helix. Beyond that, a number of glass fragments were embedded in his skin, but there were no major wounds as far as Daniela could see. "Stay away from the windows!" was the first thing that left the injured man's lips, showing that his concern over the occupants of this room exceeded the one he had for himself. "I am okay, I think…"
Crawling away from the window and getting up to be on his knees, Tom proceeded to carefully inspect his newest injury with two deft fingers, while remaining blissfully unaware of the predatory stare he was treated to.
Again, Daniela simply couldn't help it as two parts of her split off. One was deathly worried for her dear friend and wanted to leap to engulf him in a comforting hug - snipers be damned.
Another, far more feral side of Daniela, eyed his bloodied ear greedily, lusting to get a taste. They were close enough for the delicious smell to hit her nostrils, forcing the redheaded woman to do her best to suppress the sudden craving to salivate in bestial desire, for it smelt so fucking good. Fresh, youthful, healthy man-blood. The sight of it, trickling down his neck, alongside his suddenly very conspicuous carotid artery - that all but begged her to bite in - was almost enough to drive her into a violent frenzy as the beast within asked for its due. No… it did not ask - it demanded. And just like before, it sought to gain its way to be the dominant presence in their shared body through Daniela's weaknesses - her fear and indecisiveness. Certainly, a decade ago it would've easily assumed control and would already be digging in. Maybe, a year ago it would have succeeded with some struggle. Perhaps, even a mere month ago she would've lost herself to the red haze and pounced upon her dear friend.
No! Fuck off! Sit down and wait your turn!
Daniela was not a scared little girl anymore. All the trials and tribulation that followed Miranda's demise and their exodus from Romania had hardened her will. But it was Ethan who had taught her to believe that she could remain in control. The experience that had followed served to confirm the notion and now Daniela knew that even that feral creature deep inside of her could be tamed. All she had to do was show no fear. No hesitation.
Away with you, pest!
Unable to find its way in, the beast growled but retreated back into the depth of her psyche.
Just as Daniela had reassessed control of her own body and the red haze retreated from her vision, Tom had finished his brief examination of his injury. Still on his knees - wisely not exposing himself to the sniper's line-of-sight - Tom smirked her way and let out a surprisingly cocky, "It's just a scratch."
The young man appeared unaware of the inner conflict that just took place within Daniela and she was only too happy to keep it that way, so she responded with a situation-inappropriate giggle as well as an honest observation, "Now you sound just like Cassi!"
"Somehow being compared to your older sister just boosted my machismo levels." quipped Tom in return, and Daniela couldn't help but let a hearty laugh out. In turn, Alcina and Rose all but gaped at the two young people - still crouching on the floor - bloodied and bruised, surrounded by mayhem but still engaging in easy banter. In a way, this show of carefree chatter helped give everyone present encouragement they needed to keep their composure in these trying times. Perhaps this display of playful nonchalance was exactly what the weary matriarch and the innocent child craved.
Regardless, the joyous mood didn't take - Tom's expression hardened as someone spoke into his headset in an urgent tone.
"More ill tidings?" Alcina was not amused at the seemingly endless barrage of trials fate seemed to be hell-bent on hurling her way. Her daughters deserved better than this, and she would've done everything to keep them out of harm's way. If only I had my strength back… I would carve all these miscreants up myself…
Likewise, Tom was clearly unhappy about being the bearer of bad news for the Duke's oldest and most valuable client, but few problems ever got solved by keeping quiet about them, and this one most definitely wouldn't be.
"They are already inside the building - entrenching themselves in the underground parking lot…" Tom paled as he was continuously being updated on the situation by an operator from the security room, "setting up a device of some kind… likely a viral dispersal unit."
"Uhm… that sounds bad." stated the obvious Daniela, while nervously nibbling on her nails - no longer capable of projecting even fake cheer. Unknowingly to either Tom or Daniela, they both secretly hoped that Chris, Ethan, Bela or other returning forces would be arriving soon to provide relief against these aggressors, but now that illusion was shattered and both of them realized that no cavalry was coming and they would have to fight tooth and nail for their survival.
Just to drive that point home, Tom muttered his confirmation of Daniela's previous statement.
"Bad is an understatement…" the man waved his hand in the direction of the street, where low-hanging viral mist reigned supreme, "A single viral bomb these guys used was able to cover multiple city blocks." Tom let that thought sink in for a second, before continuing, "I'd imagine that exploding it in a confined space would force pressurized virus through every hole and crack; in concentrations high enough to eat through any kind of personal protection we have here on hand…"
Even as Tom spoke, his mind worked on overdrive - thinking of a way, any way - to get them out of this mess in one piece. He desperately wished for Millie to be here with him. Even disregarding her ferrokinetic abilities, the young woman had a bright tactical mind and could swiftly concoct plans on the spot. A perfect addition to his own strategic mindset - which was normally a boon, but woefully inadequate for this crisis at hand that demanded a swift and decisive resolution. But of course, Millie was in a hospital, in a comatose state, with future uncertain. This was no longer her fight.
"Nobody inside would survive, I'd wager," grimly concluded Tom, before trading glances with everyone present inside the apartment#601, carefully wiping a stray tear shedded for the fate of his adopted sister and amending his last thought, "nobody human, anyway…"
That line between humanity and what was known as bio-organic weapons was painfully obvious to some, unbearably blurry to others, with Tom himself occupying middle ground. And while, admittedly, some part of him was actually curious - in a morbid kind of way - about which current occupant of apartment#601 could get a lungful of C-Virus and walk away, this was not a test he was happy to have imposed upon his clients… his friends.
But what could he - a simple human - do to prevent it? The enemy combatants were clearly well-equipped, numerous and determined - the brutal assault out of nowhere was a confirmation enough of that. Even as he sat here on his knees, 7 floors below him they were already setting up their viral dispersal unit - which could be activated in as little as several minutes from now on. Entrenched and well-armed as these enemies were, who could stop them? Most of those present inside the building were non-combatants, support staff that was never meant to fight for their lives. The vast majority of field agents of both B.S.A.A. and FBI were out in the field right now, likely fighting their own battles - with just a token reserve force and a couple of guards left behind in the HQ. There was no escaping either - not with seemingly numerous snipers just waiting for them to be foolish enough to try.
They were trapped; outgunned, outmatched and running out of time.
Seemingly at their own volition, Tom's gaze connected with that of Daniela. Soft viridian met softer yet amber. And as much as he hated to impose any more strife upon this beautiful creature that has suffered so, so much already, Tom knew that she was the only person who could save them all. Out of everyone present inside the anti-Connection's Task Force HQ, only Daniela Dimitrescu possessed the speed, strength and resilience necessary to stop the detonation in time.
Before he could even find the strength needed to voice his unfair request, Tom was stunned into silence as her soft amber eyes hardened into piercing orbs, filled with burning determination.
"I'll stop them."
There was no boastful bravado in her tone, neither was it filled with her typical carefree cheer. Instead, it was spoken with a resolute voice of one who was prepared to sacrifice it all for those she called her family, tempered by resigned comprehension of the fact that she was the only one in a position to even try to do so.
Immediately Tom opened his mouth to offer his assistance - in whatever capacity his mortal flesh would allow him to - but Daniela did not give him a chance to do so, as she fearlessly stood up and dashed to Alcina's couch.
The youngest Dimitrescu placed the child she was cradling all this time next to Alcina and Rose, all the while her pointed glare swiftly moving from Tom to Alcina and back was enough of a dissuasion to his potential offer of aid, as the message in her eyes was clear, even if it was unspoken.
Please, take care of them.
Quickly placing a single kiss on the forehead of her beloved mother and not waiting for any response, Daniela assumed the shape that was her birthright and, with only the buzzing of black chitin to accompany her, was gone.
Author's Note:
So sorry for such a lengthy delay!
I admit, throughout the majority of this story, I had a clear path forward thought out, several chapters in advance; knowing exactly what will happen next. But for the last chapters, with so many moving parts in the works, I struggled greatly coming with a proper resolution that would both treat every character fairly, not appear too rushed or too prolonged and will also not be too anti-climatic.
As I worked on this chapter, the way forward slowly became clearer, as poorer options were dismissed and better once refined and now I can hopefully say that I am finally back on track, though there are still some blurry spots. (especially in terms of the much-awaited Bela/Mia confrontation).
I did take some artistic liberties in this chapter with world building, organizations and locations involved, but I hope nothing is glaring to the point of breaking the suspension of disbelief - if it is, please do let me know! :) Overall, after all the time needed for this chapter, I am actually quite happy with how it came out, but of course, what the reader thinks is more important to me :)
On a small chance that you haven't read Eronald's Blood and Winter - you should totally considering doing that! That work is a masterpiece that provides continuous inspiration for me. If you have enjoyed the introspective moments I've had in this chapter, that was pretty much inspired by that work and the latest chapters in it. Even though Bela is a pretty nice person overall in this story, I've wanted for a while to portray her darker side and I am glad to finally have done that.
Anyway, sorry for the lengthy author's note, I guess I got lonely not talking with any of you guys for a while, haha :) As always, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading and have an amazing week!