Bound by Sins of the Past

by Hellraptor

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

46. To Banish a Demon

Even his respirator mask could not fully protect Ethan from the onslaught of putrid smells. While it does its job in filtering the air he breathed splendidly, it is not quite sufficient to ward off the insidiousness in Ethan's own mind. He had gone through too much for that - vivid recollections of the past can sometimes be almost as tangible as the real thing. Ethan did not need to be able to physically smell the surrounding horror for his brutalized mind to conjure the scents from sight alone. A burning tire here, a decaying cadaver there - these things Ethan was intimately familiar with, to his great chagrin.

Suddenly, the urge to vomit was nearly overpowering and only through a great force of will was Ethan able to resist the unwelcome reflex to void the contents of his stomach through his masked mouth. The nerves were getting better of him, he realized as they trekked through the empty street. The stresses of the past, combined with the prospect of imminent strife, as well as the uncertainty of the future amplified his worries and fears to a nearly unbearable degree.

Perhaps thankfully, the relative tranquility of the deserted streets did not last once the remnants of Bravo Team reached the intersection of York Avenue and East 63rd Street.

It was quite a discouraging sight that greeted them - a large number of black pickup trucks were parked all around the red-bricked apartment building that served as HQ for the Anti-Connection Task Force. It was not hard to make an educated guess that the hazmat-equipped and well-armed goons that were all over the place used the trucks as their method of transportation.

Their hostile intent towards the occupants of the red-bricked apartment building was also hardly under question, considering the firepower they brought to bear against them.

How the terrorists managed to learn about this place - considering all the secrecy surrounding it, with every member of the task-force hand-picked for their integrity, was beyond Ethan. Regardless, their assault appeared hastily-put together, with little to indicate that they had pre-prepared the location for their operation - with only light infantry and a couple of man-portable heavy weapons to support their efforts.

It was hard for Ethan to get a precise headcount without breaking concealment, but he imagined that there were dozens of armed terrorists. To think that Rose was in such peril - and he'd allowed this situation to happen with his foolish notion of 'setting things right'... Still, despite the discouraging sight, Ethan was almost glad to finally be able to gaze at those that stood between him and his daughter. The crippling anxiety had no choice but to retreat in the face of cold determination. He would rescue Rose or die trying - there was no third option.

While he naturally wanted to rush headlong into the throng of foes to ensure his daughter's safety, Ethan had to recognize the simple fact that their merry little band was hardly a match for an organized and well-armed enemy force such as the one they faced right now. What he couldn't get his head around was exactly how the trio of them could truly make a difference against this black-clad army. Perhaps if Cassandra was at full strength and himself and Dion packed some serious firepower…

"Look." Dion's whisper brought Ethan out of his morbid musings. Glancing the redhead's way, the father and Cassandra both saw him pointing towards a three-storey tall building on the university's campus, on the other side of a street from their goal. "They've got a sniper's nest in there." He was not wrong - an occasional muffled crack, accompanied by a suppressed flash was coming from the top floor's window.

"Fuck…"

Letting out a curse, Ethan could only bemoan their misfortune. Snipers always meant business, and with the lines of sight provided by their advantageous location they covered the entire area - from that direction nobody could either enter or leave the apartment building while avoiding their overwatch fire.

"Perhaps… we could turn the tides to our advantage… were we to take over that nest." Surprisingly, it was Cassandra who gave voice to that idea. Quickly trading glances, Ethan and Dion had to acknowledge the wisdom of her suggestion. With the current number of adversaries surrounding the apartment complex, any kind of direct approach was suicide - it was just that simple. If they wanted to provide real aid to the embattled occupants of the building - Rose, Daniela and Alcina included - they had to be smart about it and not blindy rush towards their demise.

The attacking force, while numerous, was clearly counting on the element of surprise amidst this bioterror outbreak to cover their activities - therefore their flanks were wide open, and even the aforementioned sniper nest appeared to lack any visible sentries or rearguard elements to protect it. If the three of them could actually take over it, they stood a decent chance of routing the terrorist offensive. That, unfortunately, meant that their loved ones inside the apartment building would be left to fend for themselves for quite a while, but it also was the only viable plan. After stewing on it for a couple of seconds and seeing no real alternatives, Ethan clenched his fist.

"Damn it… just hold on, Rosie… daddy's almost there…"

Nobody but Ethan himself could hear his desperate whisper. He could only pray that this diversion would work out as the trio set out on their task.

With the terrorists being focused on the red-bricked building and its dwindling defenders, it was a child's play to sneak around their flanks, so the group managed to reach the the university campus undetected. The concealing bluish mist, overarching gloom and the mayhem of the indiscriminate gunfire probably helped in that, as did the fact that all three of them were quite experienced in matters of stealth.

Ethan had no doubt that the large campus building appeared rather friendly and inviting on an average sunny day - today, however, it was quite menacing with its towering structures and looming shadows, as is appropriate for the current atmosphere of violence and mindless brutality.

Just like they expected, no Bloodfang sentry was there to imperil their advance - further confirming that the terrorists' assault was not premeditated. It was likely that their sharpshooter team inside had either minimal protection, or even none at all. That would make the trio's job infinitely easier, though by now Ethan knew better than to count on uncaring fate to spare him from grueling challenges and mortal combat.

Entering the darkened building and finding themselves in almost pitch-black darkness, Ethan had to suppress another curse after flickering a nearby switch produced no tangible result.

"Of course the electricity is out."

His exasperated half-whisper was immediately hushed by their female companion, who promptly warned her human compatriots of possible danger, "We are not alone here…"

Ethan was intimately aware of a bead of sweat that trickled down his brow as he clutched his Heckler & Koch VP9 pistol tight. After everything he has gone through, he was not a fan of enclosed and lightless spaces. Cassandra's warning did little to assist the wary man with his increased perspiration.

Still, being drenched in sweat but forewarned and alive beat carefree and dead any day of the week in Ethan's book. Giving the brunette a grateful nod, Ethan was silently happy when Dion's flashlight provided some illumination in the next moment.

While not exactly bathing the area in light, the simple flashlight was enough to reveal the interior as a simple reception area, with typical, university-style accolades serving as decorations.

"Seems clear…" mumbled Ethan as he saw no immediate threats, only for Cassandra to point a single finger towards the darkened hallway to their right. Dion swiftly took that as his cue to redirect his flashlight's beam, revealing the source of Cassandra's concern.

A simple "huh." was the only thing the brunette let out, as a pity-inducing husk of a zombie slowly crawled its way towards the trio. It made no sound in response, merely inching towards the humans and the bug-vampire with a notable lack of speed. With the flashlight illuminating its sorry frame, Ethan could clearly tell that this poor undead used to be either a university staff member or even a student, judging by its bloodied lab coat. An unfortunate soul, who was not able to escape the C-Virus in time and therefore succumbed to its insidious influence.

What was strange about this particular zombie, was the sluggardly pace of its crawling. Before any of them could contemplate more upon the strangely slow zombie, Cassandra took several swift steps towards the crawling husk and with unerring precision jabbed it with her kitchen knife, right into the forehead.

The zombie's body slackened and the unwitting undead let out one feeble gasp before expiring.

Unhesitating, Cassandra attempted to retract her blade, only for the cheap steel of the knife to snap, leaving her with just the grip - which she promptly discarded. "Ugh…" Seemingly unbothered by the loss of her only weapon, the middle Dimitrescu daughter proceeded to motion forward, "...hurry up, Mother is counting on us."

In silent accord, the two men followed the bloodied brunette along, though neither passed a chance to glance at the deceased husk on their way. With light illuminating its ruined frame, the reason for its sluggish crawling became painfully clear. Two bloodied cuts at the back of the zombie's knees implied that someone had hamstrung it. Moreover, the unhealthy, grayish tint of its blood suggested that the vicious injuries were inflicted post-infection.

For a moment, Ethan's mind drew a blank as to why would anyone bother crippling a zombie without actually killing it.

"Bastards…"

Dion's whisper was positively laced with venom, allowing Ethan to make an educated guess that there was no real purpose behind the zombie's miserable state. It was a meaningless act of basic human cruelty - a callous mockery inflicted by the Bloodfang upon their 'enemies' - instead of allowing the unfortunate civilian his final rest, they wanted to prolong his suffering, while conferring a state of debility upon his undead husk. Maybe it was meant as a statement to the world they hated or even as a comparison between the two - crippled and infirm… but not quite dead.

Out of the three of them, only Cassandra appeared to be unaffected by the harrowing sight, but then again - the sight of her slightly clenched fist implied otherwise. Perhaps the crippled zombie reminded her of all the atrocities she herself committed upon humankind. Ethan couldn't help but wonder if she thought about her past with regret, or if she were still indifferent to it.

Not satisfying his curiosity, the woman continued her march in silence, making Ethan drop that line of thought and instead focus his attention on the fact that the building appeared devoid of any life. As they traversed through a deserted hallway, then ascended a stairway, Ethan found himself genuinely happy from the notion that the majority of students and faculty members were likely safe and sound in their homes or nearby shelters. To be zombified was a fate Ethan wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy, much less innocent civilians.

After around a minute of walking, the group got close to their destination - the third floor. A large number of inter-connected rooms that dominated the floor appeared to be a dedicated bioresearch area, with plenty of relevant paraphernalia all over the place.

Still not meeting any resistance, the trio made their way through the lightless research area with wary steps, though their goal was finally in sight - an occasional sharp crack of a muffled rifle betrayed the sniper nest's location - one of the adjacent rooms, helpfully tagged as a 'smoking lounge'.

Exchanging glances with his comrades, Ethan proceeded to try the handle - hoping to fill the snipers with lead and put a swift end to this particular skirmish. To his chagrin, the door held strong, as it was clearly locked from the other side. Considering the predicament, Ethan thought about bashing his way into the smoking lounge - the flimsy door didn't look like it would handle a couple of hearty shoulder slams. That would undoubtedly ruin their element of surprise, however, allowing the sharpshooters a chance to respond to their lethal intent. With only six rounds in his magazine, that might prove to be a bigger challenge than they would like to tackle at this moment…

Before he could do anything, however, Cassandra's fingers on his shoulder caused the man to pause and treat the vampire to a questioning glance.

Seeing that she had his attention and not missing a beat, Cassandra proceeded to make a 'pause' motion with her palm, before moving towards the nearby open recreation room - which bordered the smoking lounge. Gazing towards the open window there, it did not take Ethan long to figure out what she had planned.

In a reversal of roles from moments before, it was Ethan's hand on Cassandra's shoulder this time, followed by a muffled whisper.

"Cass… are you sure?"

The worry was warranted, as Ethan still recalled Bela's lecture on Dimitrescu's daughter biology - any damage either of their forms suffered would transfer to the other, and vice versa. With how wounded Cassandra currently was, it couldn't be easy… or safe for her to perform her shapeshifting.

A semi-certain nod was her only response. Gently, but firmly, Cassandra detached Ethan's hand from her shoulder, before proceeding with her reckless plan. The brunette knew full well the limitations of her own body - for all of its unnatural boons, she was not invincible or tireless - not even close. Nevertheless, healthy parts of her flesh could still freely shapeshift into her desired form - and her limbs were mostly unharmed by the brutal events of this hectic day.

With that in mind, Cassandra did not hesitate in leaping right from the open window - unknowingly making Ethan's heart leap up to his throat from the frightful scene.

Of course, whenever Ethan started to worry about other people, fate was swift to remind him that his own hide demanded his full attention, if he wanted to keep it, that is.

Today was no exception and no sooner had Cassandra's frame faded from view, a bone-chilling howl pierced the veil of darkness. The howl appeared distinctly canine, though not without a hint of some kind of a monstrous distortion. In response to the potential threat, the duo left the recreation room to establish a perimeter in the more defensible lab room.

Another howl followed the first - this one much closer. "Uh-oh." somewhat unhelpfully noted Dion, but before Ethan could ask him to elaborate about the nature of the threat, a pair of shadowy silhouettes darted into the darkened room.

Showcasing his well-honed reflexes and masterful aim, Ethan was nearly instantaneous in taking aim and scoring a center mass hit against the left shadow. The creature let out a pained yelp, but did not go down - instead, both of them, clearly realizing the threat the firearm posed, attempted to use the well-stocked laboratory space as cover while closing the distance to the humans.

Undaunted by the creatures' agility and guile, Ethan squeezed the trigger five more times, doing his best to inflict at least some damage upon these unidentified foes before they would engage in melee. To his chagrin, every shot went wide, as the creatures were simply too swift - dashing from stand to stand with nearly preternatural haste; the lack of illumination hardly assisted his aim.

The gun clicked empty and before he knew it, the shadows were upon them - the wounded one went for Dion, while the unharmed one lunged right for Ethan.

With his surroundings obstructed by bulky laboratory equipment, Ethan's attempts to dodge the lunge were unsuccessful and the following impact against his chest felt akin to a sledgehammer. Struck by a vicious body propelled by a considerable velocity, Ethan was unable to stand his ground and was knocked off his feet - savagely slamming into the smoking lounge's door that happened to be right behind him.

Just like he had anticipated before, the flimsy door could not hope to resist the impact of two tangled bodies like that and, with an ear-grating noise of splintering wood and warped plastic, gave way.

Ethan wasn't sure if a distressed grunt came from his own wide open mouth, or from a person on the other side of the smashed door. All he knew in that moment was that his back hurt like hell, as well that a snarling maw was inches from his face. A paw swiped at his face, dislodging his respirator and nearly stunning him.

With an extra illumination, however minor, provided by the smoking lounge's window, Ethan could tell that the creature that was looming over him was in fact a doberman - a particularly vicious and unhealthy-looking doberman, that is. Missing patches of fur on its coat, in addition to glazed-over eyes that, nevertheless, exuded both ferociousness and madness in equal measures spoke volumes about the dog's sinister pedigree. Underlining the threat, its drooling mouth was filled with rotting, yet still sharp teeth. God only knew what kind of virulent pathogens this vile mutt carried in its spittle.

The monstrous dog let out a menacing growl and Ethan was struck by a nearly overwhelming scent of decay, but before his natural gag reflex could take over, the vicious hound made its next move, by brutally going right for his throat.

Ethan did the only thing he could to prevent the monster from chewing on his jugular - getting his already much-abused left arm in the way of its snapping jaws.

The pain inflicted by the dog's half-rotten, jagged teeth upon his flesh was truly exquisite and Ethan briefly wondered if he had been a truly awful person in his previous life to deserve all this suffering the fate seemed deadset on heaping upon him. In turn, uncaring about his mental conundrum and literally frothing with rage and madness, the mutated doberman appeared determined to brutalize his arm as much as was possible.

Without any sharp implements at hand, the best Ethan could come up with to free himself from his predicament was to whip the dog's head with the grip of his pistol. Unfortunately, the monster turned out to be more resilient than its sickly appearance implied and Ethan's strike had little effect in convincing it to let go of his arm.

But something else clearly had enough sway to force the dog back, however.

After savaging Ethan's poor arm for several seconds, the monstrous doberman suddenly let go and the white froth of its saliva took an even more sinister appearance - that of inkly blank mold.

Gagging and choking, the B.O.W. dog did its best to spit out Ethan's black blood and flesh, but their moldy components had already crystallized and now the serrated edges of the resulting mass clearly made the creature regret ever taking a bite out of Ethan, as its mouth, as well as innards were ruptured by thousands of tiny razor-sharp shards.

Being a dog lover himself, Ethan would've surely felt a speck of pity even for this monstrous creature, were its jaws not violating his own flesh, moments ago; or if it did not, having somewhat recovered from its condition, once again barred its rotting fangs at him, clearly eager to finish him off. Seemingly forgetting its painful lesson, the mutt lunged forth with its front paws soon tearing into Ethan's shirt.

Mentally preparing for the pain of its jagged teeth ravaging his flesh once again, Ethan's hands found themselves protecting his vitals, all but expecting the next savage bite to come any second now.

Before the mutated mutt could do just that, however, a high-powered round blasted its way through its cranium, putting the dog out of its misery in an instant, while splattering Ethan's face with its brain matter.

"Fuck!"

At least now he could add a mutated canine to an already extensive list of creatures he had survived an encounter with…

---

Rosemary Winters was scared.

Not even three years of age, it was little wonder that fear was a constant companion to the tiny girl, caught up in the seemingly unending horror of her terrifying reality. Too young to truly know the ways of the world or the true reason for the constant struggles the Winters family experienced, but not too young to fail to recognize danger, Rose's only wish was for it all to end.

She wanted her mama and her daddy. She desperately wanted to find solace and comfort in the embrace of her loving parents.

"This way, my lady!"

Instead, all the innocent child had was the protective embrace of Alcina Dimitrescu, who rushed to follow Tom along through the myriad of dilapidated hallways and unused pathways, while clutching poor Rose's hand in her own and holding Sarah close to her chest with her other one.

The noise of violent combat, accompanied by an occasional shockwave from some distant explosive, forced Rose to keep her eyes closed and her own hold on Alcina's hand tight. It was quite a struggle for her tiny legs to keep up the pace, but the girl did her best to not slow the adults down. The sense of impending danger was strong enough to override any kind of discomfort she experienced.

But not enough to keep it to herself, as much as she wanted to. A traitorous, fear-filled, sob left the tiny girl's throat. Amazingly, even through the clamor of conflict, the Dimitrescu matriarch was able to hear the muffled sound of distress and a reassurance was swift to depart her parched lips.

"Everything is going to be alright, little one."

Even despite her tender age, Rose was always keen to words left unsaid and the feelings of people around her. The well-developed intuition granted the child the unenviable boon of seeing through the reassurance - into the terror and uncertainty that lurked beneath Alcina's calm veneer. She was a mother, as well, and the unknown whereabouts of her three daughters caused the all-consuming gnawing on her heart.

A sudden crashing noise forced the woman to let loose a gasp of distress, followed by Rose's desperate whimper as the pair stopped dead in their tracks. Not opening her eyes, the child was blind - but not deaf to something akin to a brutal skirmish that took place in the next moments. Masculine, mask-muffled curses; erratic gunfire and thumps of heavy objects collapsing upon the solid floor.

Not wishing to witness the calamity, Rose buried her face in Alcina's leg in her attempt to find an oasis of safety in this world of danger. Clutching the leg tightly, Rose wanted to be anywhere but here - away from violence and mayhem.

Miraculously, her wish came true - at least somewhat - and the din of combat was somehow replaced by a comforting noise of a steadily - if erratically - beating heart. As the child still refused to open her eyes, nothing but darkness was there for her…yet somehow, she was able to see… or perhaps sense the cardiovascular system of a being she was pressed against.

The scientific implication of this inexplicable phenomenon went right over Rose's head as she stared, with closed eyes, upon the life-giving web of arteries and veins that courses all throughout Alcina's body. Since she obviously lacked the necessary anatomical knowledge to properly appreciate the complex biological system that was suddenly open to her perusal, all Rose could do was marvel at it… while at the same time noting that it… somehow felt incomplete… wrong… drained.

Guided by enigmatic instinct rather than concrete knowledge, Rose felt her unseeing gaze moving upwards, until she saw what she knew to be the reason for Alcina's organism weakened state.

At the top of her skull, in between her brain and the cranium wall, was a different kind of creature - interconnected with Alcina to the point where it was completely dependent on her.

The mysterious being was a small blob, with many tendrils reaching out from its amorphous shape - going far out into Alcina's being, until they were completely lost in her cardiovascular system. Even for a professional medical examiner it would be a tall order to tell exactly where the creature ended and the woman begun… but a three year old girl somehow could easily tell that there was no meaningful distinction between the two beings - the many decades they spent together saw them fused to the point where they could no longer be separated.

Moreover, Rose felt as if this enigmatic blob of sickly flesh called out to her! It screamed, in a silent voice, for something. And as the girl focused on that wordless plea, she found herself able to decipher it - it cried out for help! Drained dry by human cruelty, the creature was on the brink of death… and even its interlinked host had nothing more to give to sustain its unnatural existence.

But Rose?.. Rose could help it… she just knew it.

Just like she had done earlier, back in the French safehouse or in the airplane on the way to New York, Rose focused her willpower. There was no Eveline to guide her actions this time, but the girl had learned enough from her older sister to attempt the mysterious procedure on her own.

The intangible energies flowed from the center of her own being, right through their interconnected limbs, then through Alcina's body and finally into the enigmatic entity in her head. It demanded much from Rose, but the girl did not hesitate to channel all it required, even though dizziness was seemingly the only reward for her efforts.

While neither Rose nor Alcina could tell what exactly was going on, the girl's efforts were not in vain and the result of her work was nearly instantaneous. Withered and dejected, the Cadou parasite, which was akin to a lifelong companion to the Dimitrescu matriarch, experienced the process of spontaneous rejuvenation. Almost as if paying for the sins of her own mother - who had pushed the creature to the brink with her cruel extraction procedures - Rose funneled her own life force into it. The cycle of violence the Winters and the Dimitrescu had perpetuated against each other was irrelevant to the child, even as she shattered it to pieces with her selfless act.

It was not in vain.

The newfound energy flowed freely throughout its relatively tiny frame, allowing the unnatural symbiote to find the power needed to resume its original purpose - the production of enriched mold, which then rushed to spread all throughout Alcina's cardiovascular system.

Unfortunately for Rose, her own tiny body was ill-suited for continuous sharing of energy and before long, the young child collapsed upon the floor with a feeble gasp.

Exhausted but not unconscious, Rose finally opened her eyes to beheld the fruits of her labor, as well as the general situation unfolding around them. No sooner than she did so, the child let loose a piercing wail of distress.

"Uncle Tom!"

The man that was truly almost like her real uncle by now was lying in a small pool of his own blood, while nursing a gushing wound in his shoulder. With his dominant hand disabled, it was no surprise to see his firearm discarded some distance away.

Still, even this kind-hearted caretaker proved himself an experienced combatant, as he did not go down without a fight - two terrorists now shared the floor with him - a neat bullet hole in one's forehead and a knife stuck in the throat of another implied that they would not be standing up again. A small comfort, considering that a third combatant - a fearsome goliath of truly prodigious height and bulk - was now menacingly looming over Tom.

The hulking terrorist, alongside his two deceased comrades, had likely emerged from a smashed door immediately to Tom's right, and was now seeking to avenge their demise with his fittingly enormous and wickedly sharp machete. A single swipe from the serrated weapon, wielded by the brute's monstrous strength, would surely be able to decapitate a human.

Rose, being an innocent child that she was, could not even picture such an atrocity occurring, yet even she knew that Tom's life was in grave peril as the hulking brute, growling like an enraged mastiff, lifted his wicked machete for a killing blow; one more armed raider eagerly watching the spectacle from behind the mountain of muscle.

Unable to hold her gaze, the child closed her eyes once again, expecting a death rattle of uncle Tom to follow in the very next instant.

Instead, the garbled noise of metal screeching against metal followed, causing Rose to flutter her eyelids open in a morbid kind of curiosity.

What greeted her gaze was enough to let her jaw drop from raw shock and astonishment.

It was Lady Alcina, as if a knight from the stories daddy and mommy had read her, raising up to deflect the killing blow… with her nails… Her nails, that were akin to razor sharp and wickedly long blades as they protruded forth from her fingers, putting even the claws of the mighty ursine predators to shame.

Just like Rose, it appeared that the hulking terrorist was also shocked by the appearance of a frail-looking and petite woman, that suddenly sought to challenge his kill with her elongated nail-blades. With his machete in a deadlock against Alcina's blades, the man grunted in effort as he attempted to leverage his massive bulk against the relatively tiny woman - to no avail.

Few in the Bloodfang were able to match his raw strength; none could exceed it. Therefore, the mighty fighter could only let out a shocked curse as the strange woman - who visibly appeared fragile enough that he was sure he would be easily able to break her in half with a half-hearted backhand - was able to stand her ground against his prodigious strength.

In turn, even though sweat started to bead on Alcina's brow from exertion, the Dimitrescu Matriarch was not going to limit herself to blocking the terrorist's swing. Not allowing the brute the opportunity to recover his wits, the noble woman - feeling almost as strong as she did during her 9ft tall prime - proceeded to employ her left hand, which now sported a similar set of deadly nail-blades.

Seeking to test her own newfound might, Alcina did not hesitate to combine all ten of her blades and, with a furious roar that made Rose's hair stand on straight, pushed hard against the machete-wielding bastard.

To his credit, the hulking man put his whole being into resisting the sudden assault, determined to not give any ground to his unexpected adversary. To his misfortune, however, all it achieved was his bladed weapon becoming the path of least resistance. The vicious machete, soaked in blood of many innocent people, could not withstand the inhuman power behind Alcina's infused frame and wickedly sharp nail-blades. Mold-hardened α-keratin proved superior to second-tier steel and with grating noise, the once-fearsome weapon was sheared into worthless bits that fell all over the floor, leaving its owner stupidly gaping at the harmless hilt his sweaty palms held on for dear life.

"Wha…-"

Alcina found the very act of the terrorist opening his crude mouth offensive in the extreme, therefore, it was only natural for her to impale the offending creature with her nail-blades in the very next second.

Five nail-blades found their mark deep in his stomach, piercing his simple kevlar vest as if it was wet paper. The horrible wound was lethal on its own, yet the Dimitrescu matriarch found herself not quite satisfied, as the pathetic meatsack continued to gurgle at her. The issue was promptly solved when her right hand - with its formidable arsenal of (un)natural weaponry, was shoved into his throat, tearing the whole head off with an ease one might pick a berry.

Withdrawing all ten of her nail-blades in a singular motion, Alcina deigned the surroundings with a satisfied "Hmph!" as the ruined carcass of a hulk that sought to imperil them plopped down, quite literally in pieces, but not before showering those nearby in delightful crimson.

The invigoration produced from the resurgence of her long-lost powers, combined with the thrill of the savage kill was enough to reignite the countess' fiery and proud spirit. Predictably, the gruesome execution had the opposite effect on the last present Bloodfang - a lanky man with shaking hands - probably more of a fresh recruit to their cause than a hardened militant.

For a second, it was clear that the man was contemplating discarding his AK-74 assault rifle and fleeing the countess' terrible wrath - while Alcina herself contemplated him with an amused expression. Ultimately, however, whatever misanthropic and unyielding doctrine was drilled into the fighter in the Bloodfang training centers prevailed.

With a roar of both fright and rage, the terrorist let loose with his assault rifle, and in that same moment, Alcina rushed forward - right hand raised in obvious intent.

The bullets carved their way through her flesh easily enough, only to penetrate a thin hallway wall behind her - possibly becoming someone else's problem. Unfortunately for the terrorist, however, the wounds his projectiles left behind closed on their own even before the responsible bullet's brief flight was terminated by whatever object was solid enough to withstand their waning energy. In turn, the man had no supernatural regeneration of his own to restore his ruined cranium - and as five nail-blades vacated his butchered head, merely collapsed like a bag of rocks, dead before he hit the floor.

Producing a victorious smirk, the countess took a second to sample some of the blood that got spurted upon her face. "Subpar." was the Romanian winemaker's swift verdict, as she gave a tentative lick; with her smirk quickly morphing into a frown.

Still, this was not the time or place for extended theatrics, and Alcina was quick to turn her attention to her companions.

The unconscious body of Sarah was where she had left it - by Rosie's side; while Tom merely gaped at her with awe and gratitude in his green eyes - a most welcome change, as Alcina secretly loathed the looks of either pity or contempt most would shoot her way - hardly a surprise, considering the decades she spent as the dominating and powerful countess.

"Surely such a scratch will not be enough to keep you down, Thomas?"

The vicious gash was anything but a scratch, therefore Alcina's question was a little bit callous, but the situation called for it. While the countess herself, with her suddenly resurgent Cadou powers, was more than a match for a bunch of armed humans, the same could not be said for the three of them. The Dimitrescu matriarch was fully aware that if another squad of hostile humans showed up, she would not be able to assure Rose's safety, much less Sarah's or Tom's. And in Alcina's eyes, such a state was simply unacceptable.

During her days under Miranda, many unfortunate souls that met their end in the Dimitrescu family dungeons had made a reasonable assumption that Lady Dimitrescu was an unfeeling monstrosity with not a speck of humanity left in her. And while there was a measure of truth in such a notion, the complexity of their situation back then meant that straightforward terms such as good and evil could not hope to convey a truthful picture of the Dimitrescu family. In a way, they were as much prisoners of their circumstances as were the unlucky humans who ended up in their care - their cage was a little bigger and brighter, is all. Alcina did not use her towering stature and prodigal powers to spread terror and misery - she employed it to ensure the safety and prosperity of her family - her adoptive daughters, whom she loved with every fiber of her being. Even after fully embracing her evil ways and for all her monstrous deeds, she was a mother first and foremost, now and forevermore.

And now, that same protective spark sprung to existence as she beheld the defenseless child - precious Rose, whom she wronged so much; to the lesser extent, it also demanded of her to defend both Sarah and Tom, as well.

Trying hard - and failing - to mask his pain with a smirk, Tom got back to his feet, while mouthing his gratitude for the unexpected salvation, "Of course not, my Lady… and thank you for the timely intervention. I didn't realize you had recovered your… ahm… powers, already."

Neither did Alcina herself, though an unexpected surge of power that rushed throughout her body as she beheld Tom fighting on their behalf was enough for her to jump into the fray. In truth, she had half-expected the hulking brute to cleave her in half with a single swing of his machete.

Keeping quiet about that particular point, Alcina proceeded to make her way back to the two children, while retracting her nail-blades back into her flesh. Malleable beyond comparison, the mold that made up the majority of them dispersed back throughout her body, though it would take but a thought for it to rush back to form into these fearsome tools of evisceration.

"Let's go, children."

Before they were so rudely interrupted by these masked cretins, Alcina and the rest of their little gang were on their way to seek shelter down in the parking lot - operating on the reasonable assumption that since the viral bomb didn't detonate, Daniela was successful in dispatching the aggressors down there. Not that Alcina would go anywhere without her precious youngest daughter, even if that wasn't the case, however.

Astounding Alcina with how stalwart she was in the face of such a crisis, Rose merely nodded as she got to her tiny feet, though Sarah was predictably less cooperative, due to her unconscious state.

Before she could pick the B.O.W. child, Alcina was frozen dead in her tracks by a sudden gust of chilling wind.

Raising her gaze, she saw the source of disturbance marching up towards them from the hallway they themselves took to escape the ambush on their apartment.

It was a lone man, and while Alcina found the majority of human males distasteful to behold, this individual appeared particularly revolting to her senses. Lanky; with short, military-cut black hair and narrowed eyes that glinted with malice and madness both - Alcina knew this gaze well, for Miranda's one was eerily similar to it.

The silent menace exuded by this man was enough to send shivers running down her spine; somehow, she was not particularly eager to test her regained power against this person.

Likewise, Rose was also not blind to the danger this man posed, as the keen child did her best to hide behind Alcina's leg, while fearfully staring at the approaching man - in turn, the stranger locked his gaze with the child, seemingly ignoring Alcina and Tom utterly as he marched straight towards her.

"You don't have to die here, you know. Give up the Winters' child and I'll allow you to rejoin your own wretched daughters."

His low voice was as offensive to her sensibilities as was the rest of his appearance. But it was the words themselves that awoke the burning indignity in Alcina. The notion that this vile human thought her callous enough to just abandon this innocent child for his false promises was infuriating.

A sudden burst of self-hatred surged through her mind as she realized that perhaps she was. If he - just like Miranda did - could guarantee her daughters' safety… she would give up Rose.

As if reading her mind, the man graced her with a sickening smirk and, finally looking her straight in the eyes, continued his monologue - while leisurely moving towards her.

"My men and I have no quarrel with you or your daughters…not anymore. Give me the child and you have my word that none of you will be harmed."

"He is lying, my lady…" feebly tried Tom, while clutching his recovered pistol - he was ignored, however, as Alcina focused on barely audible sobs of distress coming from Rose, instead. They made the former countess briefly contemplate if she deserved this second chance at life, after all. How could she even consider this wretched proposal? Hasn't Rose suffered enough at her hands?

Reaffirming her protective pose over Rosemary, Alcina's final answer took the shape of her claws, elongating once more into razor-sharp nail-blades.

"Poor timing to grow a conscience."

The biting comment was not the only thing that man let out, as a door next to him suddenly opened, with armed terrorists slowly stepping out. Three of them soon stood in between the strange man and the huddling group of children and adults, while three more emerged from the passageway that was already bloodied by the remnants of the first group that sought to hinder Alcina and Tom. One of them wordlessly proceeded to disarm Tom, who knew better than to resist.

There was something strange about these new humans, however. Their motions were pondering, unnaturally so, almost zombie-like. Moreover, through their visors, Alcina could see their eyes glazed over, as if they were sleepwalking.

"I'll have my prize, regardless."

The cruel determination in the man's voice was only matched by the passionate exclamation of the countess herself.

"Over my dead body."

The man let out a mean-spirited chuckle, before theatrically waving his hand towards the lower floor, "Your precious daughter made a similar claim… yet here I am."

That was enough to make Alcina's blood boil in her veins.

"What have you done to my Daniela?!"

The stranger smirked, but it quickly morphed into what Alcina could discern as an annoyed frown, before, without any warning, the man suddenly ducked down, only for a bullet to wheeze through the spot his head occupied but an instant ago.

Not wasting a second and showcasing a notable degree of acrobatic agility that belied his lanky frame, the man swirled around to face the newest aggressor and a flick of his wrist was succeeded by a feminine - all too familiar to Alcina - yelp of pain.

"Bela!"

The unmistakable form of her cherished daughter - clutching her right hand, which was bent into an unnatural angle - forced Alcina to make a step forward, ready to carve her way in defense of her child.

Their gazes connected momentarily, "I am fine, mother… so is Daniela…"

Her eldest comforting words were like a balm of soothing oil for her weary heart, but it did not last, as the vile man saw fit to mock their precarious situation.

"A decent attempt, though your lethal intent was painfully obvious…"

In turn, Bela only glared balefully at the stranger, and Alcina felt cold sweat beading on her brow from the very fact that her oldest was not consuming this arrogant human in a cloud of flies yet.

"...almost as obvious as dear old Mia, skulking around…"

Knowing that she was somehow revealed by this mysterious man, Mia Winters limped out from her concealed position… to take her place at Bela's side, while holding her hands behind her back.

"Mommy!" yelled out little Rose, while making an obvious attempt to rush right towards her. Careful not to impale the child with her elongated nail-blades, Alcina stopped that attempt dead in its tracks, while delivering an admonishment.

"Stay behind me, little one!"

Thankfully, the command was heeded, allowing Alcina to focus her gaze at the newest member of their impromptu gathering.

At the sight of the woman who had tormented her so much, Alcina's first instinct was to rip and tear into her. The fact that she now stood alongside her Bela, however, was enough to paralyze the matriarch with confusion. Both Mia and Bela appeared as if they just emerged from a life-or-death struggle - bruised and bloodied to the point it was a miracle either of them were still standing. A thousand questions rushed across Alcina's mind, but she knew that this was not the time for them. All that mattered was the apparent cooperation of Mia and Bela as they sought to challenge this man.

Now, however, Bela and Mia's jig was up, as whatever they had planned to stop this mysterious man failed due to his unnatural perception or perhaps even precognition.

Or was it?

Out of the corner of her eye, Alcina noted a strange growth starting to protrude from Sarah's unconscious body. Slowly, methodically, it sprung from a spot right above her navel, and soon after a small tear was opened in the girl's simple white blouse - allowing Alcina's eyes to take in the growth's appearance - that of an inky black, moldy protrusion. It continued to grow, elongating; with its edge taking a very distinct appearance of a sharpened spearhead.

"I admit, I feel a certain regret that things have to end on such a sour note between us, Mia. It was nothing personal, you understand?"

Fettel was completely blind to the mutation that was happening right behind him - busy monologuing. In turn, Mia refused to deign him with a response, though her face grew noticeably red, implying her rage at the callous reference to her child's fate being 'nothing personal'. Even if she could not stand that woman, Alcina could relate to that, at least.

"But honestly, you should've known better. Even that yokel Miranda saw the untapped potential of your daughter. It's really your fault for believing that I'd settle for that worthless Dimitrescu husk."

Like their gloating master, the armed Bloodfang around them paid no mind to the inconspicuous change happening in Sarah's tiny body - though, in their cases, one could argue the reason for their lack of awareness lay in the befuddled state of their minds, as they treated Alcina with blank, mindless stares.

Suddenly, without any warning, the moldy spike launched right from Sarah's body. With velocity approaching that of a conventional firearm, the sharpened organic projectile seemed dead set on impaling the mysterious man right through his chest.

The deadly meeting between a human heart and a sharpened spike of mold was interrupted at the last possible moment, to Alcina's shock.

For a moment in time, it seemed that the organic projectile simply stuck in solid air, inches away from the man's back. Alcina had enough time to only assume that it was yet another display of that human's unnatural precognitive and telepathic powers, but the truth was swift to dispel that sentiment, revealing something hardly any less sinister.

The seemingly empty spot, in which the spike was apparently stuck, was soon spewing crimson and in the next moment a human-shaped disturbance in the air was made obvious to Alcina's eyes. Another second, and the silhouette took a far more solid appearance, with a hideous static noise to accompany its reveal.

Alcina could not help herself but let out a frightened gasp as she recognized the revealed human as the familiar to her shape of a Replica Assassin - almost identical to the one who had nearly claimed her life back in that so-called safehouse in France.

It seemed that this assassin was shadowing the mysterious man all this time, and was just waiting for Alcina to make her move against him to give her a taste of his electrified arm-blades.

Neither of them got a chance to do that now, with the assassin letting out a gurgle of what sounded like disbelief, while panicky trying to stem the bleeding from the gushing wound in his chest.

In turn, his master - the enigmatic man - only became aware of the commotion happening behind him once the assassin's cloaking device produced its horrid static noise as it shut down. Turning around just in time to see his final bodyguard collapse in a bloody heap, he was less than amused. His composure was clearly shaken, but not yet completely gone, as he hissed through gritted teeth,

"...I should've known you'd have another card up your sleeve, dear Mia… resourceful little mouse you are… "

Clenching his fists to the point where they became bone-white, the man let out a fearsome roar of a command, "GET THEM! AND FIND THAT BRAT!"

Like the obedient puppets they were, a trio of brainwashed Bloodfang rushed to fulfill their directive; two of them swiftly put both Mia and Bela on their knees with guns pressed to the back of their hands - the weakened women unable to put up any kind of a fight, while a third soon came back with another child struggling against his grip.

The man gave the kneeling women and children assembled before him a snort of annoyance. "If this brat does another one of his tricks… kill them all." The implication that he would spare them otherwise appeared laughable to Alcina. She knew his type well - he wanted to put up a show, but ultimately, he would not be leaving any witnesses, not if he could help it.

Regardless of his ultimate intent, seeing the callous treatment her daughter was subject to, Alcina finally had enough of being a passive observer in this confrontation. Still, with her cherished child held at gunpoint and seemingly unable to transform into her trademark swarm shape, she had to tread carefully. Perhaps if she delivered a quiet and swift attack while the man was distracted? Bela's attempt to do the same was unsuccessful, but what choice did she have right now? Either that last-ditch effort… or to actually submit to his demands and trade Rose away.

As if sensing her deadly intent, the mysterious man was swift in turning around and with a simple gesture of his hand, Alcina felt every muscle in her body suddenly becoming unresponsive.

"I've had enough of all the distractions…"

There was nothing but cold, merciless determination in his voice, so reminiscent of Mother Miranda. With no further ado, the man proceeded to start walking towards her and the innocent child still hiding behind. His steps were firm, heavy, unyielding - fully conveying the sense that nothing else could impede his march towards his prize.

Struggling against the invisible bonds with everything she had - and her mold-enhanced strength was formidable indeed - Alcina was still unable to break the invisible hold the man had on her, though a thin trail of blood from his nostril, combined with right hand's tremor was enough of an implication that it took more than a little effort on his part to keep her subdued.

Regardless, she could only stare at the seemingly unstoppable approach of that vile man, a grimace of callous indifference and deadly focus on his face as he sought to use an innocent child's life for his own unfathomable goals.

Behind him, Alcina could see her beloved Bela's own grimace of blazing hatred of truly fearsome intensity. Even forced on her knees, with a barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her skull, her oldest daughter burning hatred for that man was palpable. Alcina was sure, that much like herself, the bright mind of Bela had no issues in finding eerie similarities between this human and the haunting presence of Miranda that kept the Dimitrescu family in thrall to her selfish whims for so many years.

The Dimitrescu matriarch knew her child well…

On the other side of the hall, Bela was burning holes in Paxton Fettel's back in impotent rage.

Her body was a wreck. No strength left in her exhausted muscles. No unnatural powers to call upon. No companions to beseech for aid. No tricks left up her sleeve.

Sparing a glance towards her unexpected companion - the traitorous wife of Ethan - Bela's last hope was shattered. Her idea to use Haru's mold-control powers to draw a piece of hardened substance from Sarah's body to deliver a silent but lethal attack was brilliant, but it also failed, for none of them could even begin to anticipate an invisible bodyguard there to give his life for his uncaring master. Now, not even that resourceful and cunning woman had any more fallback plans.

All that stood in between Mia's child and the monster who sought to absorb her powers was Alcina Dimitrescu, but even with a portion of her powers seemingly restored to her, she was no match against his array of telekinetic powers.

There was no hope left for her to see and tears of grief fell freely from Mia's bruised face. For all her sins, the motherly instinct ran deep in Mia, and Bela was not surprised to see the despairing mother disregard the barrel of a gun that was pressed to the back of her head.

With a roar of hatred, Mia leapt forward towards the discarded pistol, determined to protect her child, no matter what.

Unfortunately, the Bloodfang fighter behind her was swift to respond. Surprisingly, instead of filling Mia with bullets and putting a permanent end to her, he merely bashed her with a stock of his rifle, making the wounded woman crash right back to the floor.

"Mommy!" Rose's piercing shriek could not hope to melt that man's stone heart, thankfully, the girl knew better than to try her luck in rushing past Fettel and towards the downed form of her mother.

Fettel paused for a moment, and glancing back towards them, shot Mia a cruel smirk. Bela didn't miss the fact that he kept his shaking right hand firmly towards Alcina, keeping her in some kind of an invisible suspension field.

"Your help along the way was instrumental, Mia, therefore, I'll let you live. But the price for your failure will make you wish I didn't." Fettel made a motion with his free hand, and an unspoken command was delivered to the goon behind Mia. Obeying it without question, the brainwashed terrorist crouched next to the fallen woman, only to brutally yank her head back by her hair, forcing her to observe the unspeakable cruelty that was surely about to take place.

Bela never felt such all-consuming hatred towards anyone before as she did now. Not even Mother Miranda herself could hope to challenge Paxton Fettel on the pedestal of loathing he so firmly occupied now, though they were frighteningly similar in many regards.

Just like Miranda, this man had no issues staining his hands with the blood of countless innocents in the pursuit of his wicked goals. While the so-called prophet of the Black God kidnapped and butchers hundreds, if not thousands of people over the decades in a bid to find a perfect vessel for Eve, Fettel displayed an utter disregard for his enemies and innocents alike by sinking the Duke's ship and orchestrating a bio-terror attack in New York.

Just like Miranda, he had no qualms about using and then betraying those under him, as long as it advanced his aims. There was no mercy or compassion for her misguided followers to be found when the Holy Mother had decided that the devoted villagers and the Four Lords had outlived their usefulness. Making a mental parallel, Bela had little doubt about Fettel's intention of eventually turning on Mia; not to mention brainwashing his latest hire - the oblivious Bloodfang, who were probably not that happy about being used as his cannon fodder and literal meat puppets.

And finally, just like Miranda, he appeared relentless in the pursuit of Rosemary Winters, once he realized her value for his schemes. No suffering or misery sown in their wake seemed to be enough to dissuade either of them.

In a way, this man was almost a perfect rendition of Miranda, in all of her worst traits - here to haunt them long after her demise.

The few things that differentiated them were not working in his favor either. Miranda's ultimate goal was the resurrection of her long-lost child and its fulfillment lay in claiming Rose as the vessel of Eve's rebirth; however small, it was a distinct possibility that Miranda's villainous streak would have ended there, were she successful. Meanwhile, Bela could not even begin to fathom what motivated this vile man to continue on his path of destruction, but something told her that he would hardly stop, were he allowed to claim Rose's power. For Miranda, Rose was the ultimate prize, the final goal on a century-long search. For Fettel, however, Rose was merely a stepping stone; means to an end.

Just how many more people, present company notwithstanding, would perish were he allowed to take Rose's birthright for his own? Bela did not want to even consider the answer to that grim question, but things being as they are, she was powerless to do anything but ponder upon their unenviable predicament as she glared at Fettel's back; the man seemingly taunting both her and Mia with his unhurried gait.

To think that anyone would be able to overshadow the atrocities of Miranda and my own family… Yet this man has done so with despicable ease. So much misery and death… and for what? What could possibly justify the path of devastation this man chose?

Bela felt bile rising up her throat, as uncharacteristic, all-consuming hatred towards this singular man coursed through every fiber of her being.

Paxton Fettel was about half-way towards the immobilized countess and the tiny shape of an innocent girl behind her. And there was nothing anyone could do.

It was strangely silent in the hallway, even though such a momentous occasion was happening in it right now. Other than Mia's delirious wails, Rose's unrestrained sobs and Fettel's muffled footsteps, there was not a sound that could break this grim reverie. None of the deadly-still Bloodfang around them made a sound; Alcina's face was locked into a grimace of fearful rage, with her lips twisted into a shape that normally preluded a vitriolic tirade, but not a word left them this time. The peculiar silence was made all the more glaring by the fact that this whole building and the surrounding area was a blood-soaked battlefield. Ordinarily, Bela's bright mind would've never missed such an inconsistency, yet now, all it could focus on was the undeniable truth of the horrid predicament they all had found themselves in.

He had won.

No! I refuse to accept it! I refuse! If there is any justice in this world; if there are any higher powers up there that watch over their misbegotten creations, let this vile creature be smitten right here and now for his sins… and I will happily follow along for my own!

The burning desire of her futile plea must've attracted the telepathically-gifted man, as he - without further slowing down his leisurely pace - angled his head her way, showcasing an edge of a cruel smirk that made Bela grit her teeth in nearly frothing rage.

She never wanted to murder another sentient being as badly as in this moment. To strip this arrogant man-thing of his pride, until only helplessness remained - as she carved him apart with a particularly cruel tool. Or…perhaps to string him up, slice his jugular… and just watch as life slowly left his eyes. But her flashing fantasies notwithstanding, all she truly wanted in this moment was for him to simply drop dead. Maybe it would not have been a fitting vengeance for the multitudes of slain innocents left in his wake, but it would be enough to offer salvation to those she loved… and what else truly matters in this world but the ones you love?

Unblinking, Bela continued to glare at Fettel, but perhaps he grew bored with her impotent fury, as he started to return his head to its normal orientation. A few more moments and he would've locked his gaze back with his intended victims, and soon after - the fulfillment of his vicious agenda would inevitably follow, as well as the demise of Bela and the people she cared about.

In the near perfect silence of the hallway, it was all too easy for Bela's keen ears to catch on to the sudden but short-lived noise - a brief whizz she could only associate with a small object carving through air at rapid velocities; a thud of torn flesh and shattered bone.

It appeared that Fettel was in perfect synchronicity with the sudden appearance of this mysterious noise, since he froze dead in his tracks, with his head still half-turned between Bela and Rose.

For just a moment it seemed like the whole world decided to follow suit and cease all motion.

A single drop of blood was enough to shatter that fragile illusion, however. That drop was soon to shift into a crimson trail, running all the way down from Fettel's forehead.

It took a further moment for Bela's tunnel vision to allow her to note a smear of fresh blood and brain matter splattered on the wall opposite to the direction of Fettel's gaze.

"Huh..?"

A pitiful gasp of disbelief left his mouth, even as his right hand, moving with the hastiness of an infirm, briefly touched the neat little hole in his temple.

Bela imagined that his next move would be to carefully inspect the blood that was now smearing his hand, but apparently the inhuman resilience was not among the many unusual traits that man possessed.

There were no further taunts or gloats to leave his mouth.

In a way, it almost felt anti-climatic to see this brutal adversary collapse like a bag of lifeless rocks. Somehow, Bela expected this most terrible of foes to go out with a bang…and not a sigh.

Paxton Fettel's timely demise may not have been accompanied by a final speech or a boastful monologue, but it had multiple telling effects, nevertheless.

The six Bloodfang terrorists that had encircled Bela and the rest let out strangled gasps and moans of surprise, as if awakening from a particularly gruesome nightmare. Likewise, with no unnatural bonds holding her in place, Alcina Dimitrescu could once again freely control her body.

Despite the fact that Bela felt like staring, with her jaw wide open, at the still warm corpse of their bitter nemesis and ruminate upon this most unexpected yet most welcome of outcomes, the rational part of her mind was swift to remind her that they were not out of this predicament just yet, not quite.

"Mother, now!"

Freed from her unnatural bonds, Alcina didn't need to be told twice.

Befuddled at they were, the terrorists closest to her could never hope to avoid her razor-sharp claws. The gruesome lacerations that they soon found themselves with were utterly incompatible with continued existence in this mortal plane and the two Bloodfang combatants were promptly sent to meet their maker.

Tom, following the lead, was swift to leap from his own spot at the floor, while putting another mind-boggled terrorist into what looked like a well-practiced headlock. Proceeding with the momentum, both of them soon found themselves on the moth-eaten carpet, though only one of them would ever stand up again, due to the terrorist's neck being snapped by the combined velocity of their fall.

Ignorant of the struggle taking place on the other side of the hallway, Bela did not hesitate in using her enemy's disorientation to her deadly advantage by grabbing hold of his assault rifle. Her broken wrist flared in agonizing protest, yet the adrenaline rushing through her veins was enough to allow her to continue the motion by brutally bashing the rifle's stock into its owner's masked face.

The gas-mask might have served him well in warding off the lethal C-Virus, but it did little against the savage bash Bela put all of her remaining strength into, making the man fall down on his rear. Not letting go of her initiative, Bela was swift in rotating the rifle around and gunning its dazed owner down in cold blood. She had heard enough from these people to know that they were the scum of the Earth even without Fettel's mind-control. Fettel might have assumed direct control of this particular band of these bastards so they would better obey his directive, but they all came here out of their own free will, fully aware of the gruesome tally they would take upon the innocent people of this city.

They deserve neither compassion, nor mercy.

With that ruthless thought in mind, Bela had no misgivings in turning the gun on the terrorist that was now held tight by Haru's protruding mold growths. A simple, three-round burst gifted him with a kinder death than he deserved.

Whirling around in a bid to put the last Bloodfang goon into her crosshairs, Bela was in for an unpleasant surprise.

The terrorist had appeared to have recovered from the lingering effects of Fettel's mind-control and was now aiming his shotgun right her way. With her body still weakened by Mia's serum and the barrel of her own looted weapon still relatively far from pointing at his center-mass, Bela's lightning-fast mind was instant in producing a particularly grim thought.

It's over…

She was not fated to know the indignity of being slain by the last underling after outliving his master, however.

Before the terrorist could end Bela Dimitrescu, a loud bang accompanied his own demise - the worst damage he inflicted upon the blonde scion was splattering her with some of his blood and bits of brain that were roughly blown out of the terrible exit wound that marked his end.

As the final Bloodfang combatant breathed his last, a tense silence fell over the hallway and Bela found herself once again staring down in complete befuddlement, this time at her unexpected savior.

With eyes wide open at the sheer improbability of the events of the last two minutes, all Bela could manage was a simple, "Why..?"

It was a fair question. They hated each other. They wanted to kill each other. This was merely an alliance out of convenience to see their mutual foe destroyed. Bela fully expected her to betray it the moment their goal was achieved.

Yet… instead of taking this golden opportunity to have Bela dispatched, Mia Winters decided to intervene and take the shot that would see the blonde Dimitrescu remain in the world of living.

Seeing Mia's hands still clutching around the pistol's grip, Bela took a moment to contemplate the possibility that the scorned wife wanted to be the one to put an end to her. Perhaps, it was just this personal to her.

Bela felt her lips narrowing into a thin line as she gripped her looted rifle tighter, while begging her waning body to provide just one more burst of strength to allow her to prevail in the potential confrontation. She was not going to die now.

Again, Bela could only let out a light gasp of surprise when Mia simply dropped her pistol, while allowing a mirthless, dry chuckle out of her bruised mouth.

"This is for… saving Ethan…"

It was obvious that Mia referred to the events that had transpired in Romania. Another gasp, this one of sardonic disbelief, left Bela's lips. An admonishment that perhaps Mia could've returned that favor by not torturing and experimenting on her mother begged to be let loose.

Whatever vitriol that was at Bela's lips never had a chance to be unleashed, however, as a tiny shape rushed towards the downed frame of Mia, while letting out a soul-piercing shriek only a child could produce.

"Mommy!"

Seemingly forgetting all about the blonde woman who towered above her with an assault rifle in tow, Mia was instantaneous in putting her child in a warm embrace, "Rosie…" a swift kiss on the girl's forehead was followed by more soothing words, "Everything is alright now, my love… mommy is here…"

Bela would lie if she claimed that the sight before her was not heartwarming. For all of Mia's sins - which Bela felt she was not in a position to truly judge, anyway - it was plain to see the love she held for her child.

Genuinely hoping that there would be no need for further violent acts for the foreseeable future, or, at least - for tonight, Bela allowed the assault rifle to fall down on the floor, only to rush towards her own mother, who was in the process of eviscerating Fettel's corpse with her razor-sharp claws. A gruesome, but understandable precaution, considering the kind of people they knew. Nobody present wanted this horrible man to raise up and menace them once again.

Turning towards Bela after finishing her grim work, Alcina would not have been able to suppress a cry of delight, even if she wanted to do so.

"Bela!"

"Mother!"

Retracting her sharpened nails with a slight wince of pain, but with smoothness and ease reminiscent of her former glory - a tidbit Bela would be sure to inquire about, later - Alcina engulfed her eldest in a bear hug of raw relief and affection.

Both the mother and the child were covered in blood and viscera from head to toe, but that did little to stem the genuine love they poured all over each other.

"Is it… over?" Bela whispered in a fragile voice that ill-suited someone who had just gunned down two men in cold blood.

Despite her general maturity and respectable bearing, Bela still felt like a small child in the warm embrace of her beloved mother. After all the horrible trials and bloody tribulations of this violent day, she was desperate for the comfort the Dimitrescu matriarch was only too eager to provide.

"I pray for it to be so, my dearest."

Nudging her head into the crane of Alcina's neck, Bela tightened her hold around her mother - a gesture she reciprocated fully. It may not have been a long time in reality, but both the daughter and the mother felt like an eternity had passed since they saw each other last. Neither wanted to let go - scared that their loved one would vanish if they did so.

And so, they stood like that for more than a single minute, with the fear of some other terrible calamity coming to tear them apart soon giving way to the reassurance that everything will be alright.

Against all odds, the Dimitrescu family have persevered and with luck, they would all live to see the next dawn.

---

Several minutes ago

---

Cassandra managed to catch a glimpse of worry on Ethan's face before he faded from view. Once again, it evoked mixed feelings in the Dimitrescu scion. Their history has been long and bloody and even going beyond the warrior's spirit that burned bright and which scoffed at any signs of weakness, Cassandra was not sure that she was worthy of being an object of genuine care. Especially after what she had personally put him through.

Regardless, Ethan needn't have worried. No sooner had Cassandra vacated the recreation room, her arms and legs had morphed into a myriad of black-winged insects that had little trouble arresting the fall of the rest of her body.

In the almost pitch-black darkness of the shrouded street, one would struggle to see the monstrous silhouette of the middle Dimitrescu sibling as she made her way towards the open window of the smoking lounge. Flying underneath the ledge, Cassandra felt her lips split into a wicked grin as she spied a rifle's barrel poking right over her.

Without thinking too hard or too long, Cassandra proceeded to morph her arms back into their solid, human shape. Considering her current weakened state, the remaining flies struggled to keep her aloft - but she had no intent to test their fortitude for too long.

In a single lightning-fast maneuver, Cassandra had both of her hands wrapped around the weapon's barrel and, not giving the operator any chance to react, yanked on it, hard.

Even considering the element of surprise and her vampiric strength behind the motion, the end result of this shenanigan turned out to be above her expectations. Not only the sniper - who had likely been deep in concentration as he picked off hapless targets - followed after his cherished tool of trade right out the window, but he also let out a terrified shriek as he did so, invigorating the waning spirits of the middle Dimitrescu sibling.

The sadist in Cassandra couldn't be happier, but the pragmatist would not allow her to merely enjoy the show the human put up on his way down. Limiting herself to a wicked chuckle, the brunette proceeded to grab the windowsill and in the next second she was already inside the room, with her burning amber orbs locked upon her next victim. Another Bloodfang sniper - clearly in shock from just witnessing his compatriot's calamitous descent - could do nothing but jump backwards as Cassandra rushed him with deadly intent obvious as she tore off her own respirator mask and flashed her bloodied teeth.

All too aware of the gnawing hunger, it was too easy to overcome artistic, cruel as it was, desire to make that kill a particularly gruesome one. Instead of playing with her prey, the middle Dimitrescu sibling merely went for the throat, while batting away the man's feeble attempt at defense. The noises of violent commotion, coming from the other side of the door - where she had left Ethan and Dion - were registered in the back of her mind, but the raging prey drive in her relegated them to a lower priority than the delicious looking man-thing in front of her.

Naturally, the terrorist was not looking forward to be eaten alive by a carnivorous mutant, so he did his - admittedly unimpressive - best to avoid such a grim fate, though, try as he might, he could not break the unyielding grip he had found himself in as Cassandra's arms wrapped around him in a not-so-gentle embrace.

The biohazard suit the terrorist wore might have offered a degree of protection against the diluted C-Virus that permeated the surrounding air, but it did little against the vampire's sharp teeth.

As her deceptively sharp fangs tore into his jugular, the man let out a pained yelp, making Cassandra anticipate the gruesome feast with even more gusto. Just like it always did, the taste of the freshly-spilled man-blood of a still-struggling prey was enough to send her into an ecstatic feeding frenzy.

What she didn't expect, however, was a serrated combat knife that soon found its way into her side; or, more precisely, the effects it would have on her flesh.

Normally, such a last-ditch attack would've been insufficient to stop her in her tracks, as the sentient, rapidly transforming swarm would simply rearrange itself to limit the damage to her human flesh, allowing her to continue her bloody feast. Unfortunately, out of all the places in her body, the bladed weapon was plunged deep into her existing wound and instead of parting before its edge, the damaged chimaeric flesh acted much like normal one would - to Cassandra's chagrin… as well as immense, agonizing pain.

Unable to help herself, the tough-as-nails middle Dimitrescu sibling let out a short cry - the sensation of having her already raw and sensitive wound violated even further was nothing short of excruciating. Suddenly lacking oxygen in her lungs, Cassandra had no choice but to disengage from her would-be prey - who, likewise, managed to limp several steps backwards from her and was now pressing with his back against the locked door, with one hand desperately trying to stem the bleeding from the gushing wound in his throat - bereft of immediate first aid, that grievous injury was a mortal one, Cassandra's anatomical knowledge was enough to tell her that much. The man himself, however, was apparently not too keen on going down that quickly…

Breathing heavily and with her eyes wide open from the sheer agony she experienced in this moment, the woman was not in a position to push her offensive, even as she spotted the terrorist reaching for some kind of blood-red syringe that was affixed to his belt. An alarm bell was quick to ring in her head - a peculiar and inexplicable sense of dread that demanded of her to prevent the injection at all costs, yet the crippling pain in her abdomen would not allow her to do just that.

Not that she needed to.

In a show of exceptional timing, the door the terrorist leaned against suddenly gave way, as a colossal force smashed against it.

Surprising no one, it was Ethan Winters who had decided to crash her little party. Before she could chastise him for ruining her hunt and claiming that she had the situation well in control and needed no man's help, however, Cassandra noted a canine shape firmly entrenched on top of now prone Ethan. Far from being a man's best friend, this particular dog frothed with unbridled desire to tear the human underneath it to shreds.

Not trusting her own strength in that moment to simply pry the mutt off Ethan, Cassandra instead attempted a different approach. A sniper rifle of the terrorist lay discarded nearby, while the man in question himself was somewhere buried underneath the broken door and the two heavy bodies on top of it. Likewise, a blood-red syringe was temptingly within her reach and Cassandra briefly contemplated injecting herself with it. Who knew what kinds of boons and powers it could bestow upon her?

Before she could proceed with her foolhardy idea, however, her brain visualized a perfect rendition of Bela, scolding her for even considering injecting some unknown chemicals into her body.

"Eh, I am already a perfect hunter, anyway."

Her inner contemplation was finalized with a vocalized sentence and before Ethan could be further mangled by this mutt, Cassandra hastily recovered the sniper rifle. Every single motion she performed made the wound in her side radiate unspeakable agony, but her well-honed protective instincts would not allow her to remain a passive observer. Huffing with effort, the brunette managed to take a swift snapshot. To both her pride and joy, the result was a single, clean headshot. Delivered at nearly a point-blank range from a reasonably powerful rifle, it blasted the mutated dog's half-rotten cranium apart in a shower of crimson gore.

Still, the resulting giddiness from a successful kill quickly gave way to a recollection of what exactly happened the last time she picked up a human weapon. Cassandra did not hesitate in throwing the gun away the moment the memory of that agonizing burning pain resurfaced in her mind, as well as covering her own face with her palms for good measure.

Fortunately, the relatively simple Dragunov sniper rifle did not explode like the advanced gene-locked weapon the Replica soldier wielded… even more fortunately, Ethan was too occupied by getting out from the canine's rotting corpse to notice her shameful display of fright.

Still in throes of agony from the slash at her wounded side, Cassandra, nevertheless, took several tentative steps towards Ethan and helped him stand up again, licking the blood around her mouth meanwhile. She couldn't help but wince as she took a glance at his mauled arm.

For once, the sight of a human's open injury did not evoke a sense of exhilaration or hunger from her. Then again, who could blame her, considering the fact that Ethan's torn wound was covered by some kind of unevenly distributed, serrated black crystals. Likewise, the remaining blood around the injury was distinctly black in color - like her own...even darker than her own. Moreover, it was also bubbling as if boiling - it truly appeared to be more like burning tar than anything that had any business circulating in a human cardiovascular system - before settling into that same strange crystallized shape.

Staring at this disfigured wound, Cassandra couldn't help but feel vomit coming up her throat, as she recalled taking a bite from Ethan herself, years ago. True, he had bled red back then, and tasted mostly human… but now…?

Aware of her burning gaze, Ethan turned to glance her way, while putting his mauled hand behind his back.

"Dion might need our help…" the lack of commotion implied that the fight one Canine had against another was already over, one way or another, but Ethan felt beyond merely uncomfortable at having her questioning gaze linger at his violated limb. Once again, the issue of his humanity - or if there was anything human even left in him - made the man deeply conflicted. It felt as if the mold in his body was completely taking over - the added resilience was undoubtedly a boon in their current predicament, but who could tell if his condition was at all stable or even safe for his companions?

Perhaps Mia could…

It was his dear wife that had secretly mixed mold-suppressants with his food, after all. Now it seemed like a distinct possibility that they served another purpose, in addition to keeping Eveline down. Could it be that they prevented the mold from subsuming his human cells completely?

His further musings on the subject were interrupted by Dion himself, who limped his way into the smoking lounge, looking just a tad worse for wear. Like Ethan, he also sported several savage bite marks on his arm. These would definitely need to be checked by a professional later. When it came to mutated canines, rabies was hardly the only concern.

Exchanging tired glances with the bruised survivors, Dion noted the obvious, "Guess the doggies were the sniper's lookouts, after all… Good thing you took care of the snipers themselves, Dimitrescu…"

Cassandra wanted to let out a self-satisfied scoff in response, as if to say, 'naturally', but a sharp pain in her side arrested the air in her lungs. Noting her discomfort, Ethan was swift to redirect his attention to the body of a terrorist still trapped underneath the door. It seemed that without his serum and with additional trauma of the impact, the man had expired on his own sometime during the man-beast struggle.

Displaying his scavenging talents, it only took Ethan a moment to produce a first-aid spray, which he did not hesitate to offer to Cassandra, ignoring the flaring agony of his own mauled limb that demanded immediate attention.

The woman accepted the offering with a nod of gratitude, before spraying the healing substance over the wound in her abdomen. It would take a lot more than that to properly heal that grisly injury, but it should make it bearable for now.

"I wouldn't mind a bit of that myself…" Dion's pained expression did little to evoke pity from Cassandra, but she passed the spray to his waiting hand anyway. Hastily applying some of that antiseptic/coagulant mist on his injury, Dion passed the bottle back to Ethan, who, after some consideration, let out an exhausted sigh that betrayed the weight on his soul and applied the remaining spray to his crystal-covered arm.

Miraculously, no sooner than the green herb-derived mist touched the serrated edges of the crystalline substance, it shifted from ebony black to dark red, while morphing from something that appeared nearly geological back into what could pass for organic matter. Hard, serrated edges were smoothed into lumps of flesh and in mere seconds, Ethan's unnatural-looking injury could hardly be told apart from an ordinary, semi-healed scar tissue.

"Holy shit…"

"Yeah…"

Cassandra had a momentary desire to scold Dion for his inconsiderate remark. It took a forceful self-reminder that Ethan's mental wellbeing was not her problem to keep her mouth shut.

Regardless, they have wasted enough time on licking their wounds and now they have to get back on track. Invigorated by the protective urges, Cassandra proceeded to return to the window, recovering the sniper rifle on her way. Her lips split into a wicked grin as she contemplated the irony of turning a weapon against its rightful owners.

Unfortunately, the time it took them to take over this sniper nest saw the terrorist offensive advance further into the apartment building where Alcina and Rose took refuge - there were very few Bloodfang left outside, though a certain missile launcher-totting goon on a rooftop to her right was swift to attract her attention - thanks to the rifle nightvision scope. It was quite possible that this terrorist in particular was responsible for their helicopter being shot down and Cassandra was only too happy to dispense karmic retribution upon him, delivered by a 7.62×54mmR armor-piercing round.

"Hah, gotcha, you little bastard."

Nobody could miss the sadistic glee in her voice as the distant target collapsed in a heap, though neither Dion nor Ethan had any problems with her cruel streaks - not as long as it was directed upon these violent terrorists, anyway.

Entering a state of heightened focus, Cassandra continued the hunt for the Bloodfang, picking up three more targets of opportunity that presented themselves in quick succession - a machine gunner on the back of one of the pickups, a portable mortar operator, as well as man with a red wristband holding onto a bulky radio unit - perhaps an officer of some kind; barely-perceptively spurts of blood and the sight of her targets collapsing were her reward.

Meanwhile, Dion fuddled with the deceased terrorist's radio - it seemed like chaos and confusion was reigning supreme on their frequency, implying that more than one thing did not go according to their plan. That was enough to embolden all three of them as the notion that their loved ones could still be safe and sound was most welcome after the seemingly ceaseless struggles.

The remaining terrorists outside finally wisened up to the fact that their own sniper nest was compromised and no longer provided Cassandra with easy kills - making her consider the direct assault as the next logical course of action, now that they had sufficiently weakened the Bloodfang perimeter by eliminating the snipers and heavy weapon specialists.

Before she could turn around, however, a sudden and unfathomable urge made her remain locked in her position.

She could not even begin to comprehend exactly what she was feeling right now, all Cassandra knew was burning rage, directed towards a very specific and a very inconspicuous spot on the apartment building's 5th floor exterior wall. To most, one red brick looked much like any other, yet Cassandra could not tear her gaze from the one she could swear was glowing molten with the heat of a furnace.

Gritting her teeth in stupefying anger, all Cassandra wanted in that moment was to obliterate whatever was behind that brick wall, even if she had no clue about its identity.

There was no rational thought involved when she took aim at that inexplicably specific part of that simple brick wall or when she squeezed the trigger, letting the 7.62×54mmR armor-piercing round loose.

Utterly entranced and wide-eyed, Cassandra dumbly stared at the super-sonic bullet trace she unleashed - for all the deciseconds it was present for, then at the dusty upheaval caused by the projectile piercing its way through the unfortunate red brick, and finally at the neat little hole that was left in its wake - the only visible reminder of her spontaneous anger made manifest.

For a couple of seconds it felt as if all the sound was sucked into this tidy hole, since Cassandra could hear nothing but the ringing in her ears.

The wicked rage that clouded her mind relented quick enough, soon dissipating into nothingness, leaving only confusion behind. In turn, the sounds and colors of the world returned back to the Dimitrescu scion, though the knowledge of the committed act or the motivation behind still eluded her.

Her mouth felt dry and her hands trembled; with dozens of questions and erratic thoughts rushing through her head. Cassandra felt confused, somewhat foolish, yet she could not deny the inexplicable satisfaction and fulfillment that grazed at the edges of her psyche - as if she had just achieved something monumental.

"Miss Dimitrescu..?"

Ever polite, Dion managed to shake Cassandra from her stupor with his simple query. Regardless of what she had just done now, even if it turned out to be nothing at all, did not change the fact that her mother still needed her help. With the majority of the Bloodfang outside the building dead or in hiding, the coast was clear for them to advance inside and hopefully provide the aid the occupants so desperately needed.

"Right, let's go!" Turning around, the remnants of a trance-like state that visited Cassandra faded away, returning the full clarity of mind to the daughter. Time was of the essence and she was done setting the stage. "Mother is waiting for me!" Nobody could question her devotion to her family or the protective streak that would always dominate her decision-making process in times of a crisis.

Dragunov rifle in tow, Cassandra Dimitrescu was determined to march inside the apartment building and save her mother, while putting anyone who dared to stand in her way six feet under.

On her way out of the smoking lounge, Cassandra spared a glance at Ethan, who was just standing up as he finished scavenging useful items from the deceased Bloodfang. Her keen eyes immediately noted a particularly rigid pattern to his motions, almost machine-like. Hardly in prime conditions herself, Cassandra was swift to attribute that to his recent injuries, which likely impaired at least some of the fine motor functions. Perhaps Ethan even thought the same about her, after all, with her pained gait and hunched posture.

Hearing both men following along, Cassandra dismissed all of her concerns, certain that they would all share a good laugh about how foolish they looked today at some point in future.

"That was… a fine shot, Cassandra."

Coming from behind her, Ethan's voice sent chills down her spine. She tried to take the simple comment as a sarcastic one - after all, it's not often you see someone wasting a bullet on a brick wall. It's not like Ethan could possibly know about the potential effects of that shot any more than she did - and she knew nothing, therefore, how could he genuinely judge the quality of that shot?

Rationalizing that part of the comment, Cassandra could still not shake the unease she felt from the way he pronounced her name - as if he spoke it for the first time, and moreover, from the peculiar feeling that she sensed a certain amount of malice and hatred in it. Not that she could ever truly blame Ethan for hating her - God knows she gave him enough reason for that, but she genuinely thought that they were past all that…

Still, regardless of the creeping chill that now seemingly permeated the surrounding area or the atmosphere of unease around them, Cassandra would not slow her gait towards her goal. Not for some silly premonitions, anyway.

Nervously licking her chapped lips and gripping the trophy rifle tight, Cassandra continued leading their small procession in forlorn silence, Dion and Ethan following in tow. One way or the other, this was their endgame.

---

Author's Note:

So... this was quite a bit of a delay, after all...

Honestly, I don't have any real excuse, and the delay was mostly a combination of factors such as a chain of minor IRL events, my own laziness, shifting interests and the tedium of proofreading your own works (it does get a bit hard when the word count rises so high). Also, I always have trouble finishing things, and this work is quite close to the end :P

Now, that still means that I owe you guys an apology, as I was the one who set up the tempo expectations in the first place and was not able to live up to it.

Anyway, I hope this chapter was at least somewhat worth the wait and know that the next chapter is already in the works ^^

As always, I appreciate any forms of feedback and would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Hope you're all staying safe! :)