The knife came back up. "You're...not." Marigold said. 'Marcus' stopped advancing, utterly unruffled. "You are, but you're not. Back up, please." It sounded ridiculous to her own ears.
Marcus, on the other hand, seemed pleased at the assertion, if anything. He took a cursory step back, hands remaining raised. She wasn't sure that would make a difference if he changed his mind and attacked. "You can sense it? Interesting." The fractured, crawling sense of hunger grew, though his expression remained thoughtful. "I supposed I shouldn't be surprised that they never bothered to move you. They kept you with the Tyrant program, I imagine?"
She looked back at him blankly. "I don't…I don't know what that means." She blinked. "One of the researchers...I didn't see. Only a few hours ago." Her voice was hoarse from disuse.
"Tanks? Very large humanoid creatures?" He supplied. "Goodness, you couldn't have been awake more than a day."
"What are you?" Marigold snapped at him. He was being nice. Every instinct was screaming at the wrongness in front of her.
The man she had known would have been insulted at the question, snapped at her for asking stupid questions, or at least, been supremely irritated that he was being questioned at all.
This….thing…that spoke with his voice and seemed to recognize her, smiled, as if she were a precocious student who had finally hit on the right question.
"Why, I've evolved. Just like you did." He fell back another step. "Brought down by the same people, I'm almost positive of it. The effect of being around you is much more pleasant now than it was back then, almost soothing. Pheromones, I assume. Although I always suspected the coffee had been dosed for the longest time. You hardly had time to prepare something. Your brother, on the other hand…"
Oh god, this was Marcus. "*Told him later. Assumed you were used to the taste of spit in your coffee by then."
Marcus gaped at her a moment, then began to laugh. It was… unsettling. "Oh my dear, I really ought to be angry, but I am simply impressed at what the virus is capable of in a suitable host. Simply marvelous." He paused. "Condolences, of course for your family. But you simply must accompany me back-"
"My family?" She said, sharp. Her head was clear, but Marcus was beginning to look uncomfortable. He seemed to be fighting not to give any more ground. "I have a good idea of how much of an accident that was, thanks very much."
It was Marcus' turn to blink. "Sonnetroppe was always volatile, but considering that Spencer had my own students murder me in my own lab, what happened to your father very likely would have happened sooner or later," he allowed, carefully, "But…ah. Things at the Antarctic facility rather fell apart soon after you disappeared. The young prodigy passed not long after."
Lies. Had to be. Marigold stared, speechless.
Marcus, in the meantime, gritted his teeth against the growing pressure in his head. The Prototype virus revealed, absolutely. The woman before him had likely subjugated him before all others in her slow transformation into a Queen of all touched by the virus. She was only just emerging from a long metamorphosis, in his eyes; still learning that her wings were hers to use. Right now she was projecting a clear back-off signal that all infected in the area were feeling keenly. It was a credit to the strength of the Queen Leech that he was still holding his ground.
He kept his hands where she could see them. He could feel her rage quickening. A lovely sight, barely less so because it was aimed at him. Appeasement then, if only for the moment. "No one knows what happened. Not for certain. Only that your brother had an accident, and your niece passed the following year." He hurried to tell her what he knew.
"The boy?" Her voice cracked, and he winced.
"What boy?" His voice took on a pleading note. She was able to induce actual pain in T-Virus subjects. Fascinating, though it becoming annoying. "I was too busy preparing to publish after Spencer poached my best students. Evidently, he got wind of that." He smirked. "In the long term, I don't think that's worked out well for him."
Something pinged on the edge of his awareness- the training facility! His head whipped to the side. Someone was moving within the training facility once again. His two little intruders. As deliciously intriguing as this all was, perhaps he could revisit this once Marigold had cooled down. He had to secure the site, and then…"I have a matter to see to, rather urgently I'm afraid." He smiled again. He imagined it seemed genial and charming. Marigold's eyes widened, and she took several steps back. "I'm certain I can find you later. Unless you'd care to join me?" He shifted his appearance to the face he wore when he died. "I'm rather looking forward to hunting down a few choice parties, and I think you'd be surprised to know how many of them we have in common."
Marigold swallowed hard, and shook her head minutely. "Ah, too soon," Marcus tutted. "You'll learn." With that, he melted back into the trees, to return his focus to the hunt.
Courting could come later.
Marigold stared after him for several minutes. The smile he had given her was wider than that of any human, showing far too many teeth. "What in the fuck." She murmured. Another wave of nausea passed over her, and she had to fight to keep the small rations she'd scavenged down.
Oh god, he would be coming back. The train tracks would lead her to town. If she stayed close to the tree line, perhaps she'd have a bit of cover before that could happen again.
Alex was gone. Somehow, she knew Marcus hadn't been lying. Raccoon City was close enough that she could rest, but until then, grief would have to wait.
Things around here had clearly come unravelled. The longer she stuck around, the more likely it was that something would come to investigate. Or Marcus would come back. She shuddered at the thought. The rail tracks were still a solid way back. Once she got her bearings, she could change course towards town, rather than the Umbrella-controlled depot that would likely be on high alert now. It seemed like her options were limited until she made contact with an ally (all dead), if there were any left to call upon.
Hours later, the sound of a helicopter passed overhead. She faded back into the trees, watching it pass. Then, tracking its direction, she began to move away from the rail tracks and plot a course in the direction from which the helicopter had come.
As the hours passed, the 'signals' of the…creatures...dropped away, gradually. She kept moving. Were they dead? Moving away? She had to keep moving. The dead kept their distance.
Deep beneath the mansion, a self-destruct sequence began to run. It would begin a cascading sequence of protocols quite soon that would burn decades of work and research and blood to ash.
A man in tactical gear groaned quietly on the lab level, pushing himself to his feet from a shockingly large pool of blood. The surviving STARS would have their hands full enough with the Tyrant, but he couldn't waste time. Today would be nearly worthless without the combat data.
He keyed in his administrative password. Rejected. He tried again, frowning. The computer informed him in a serene voice that those credentials had been removed from the database. The man closed his eyes, understanding immediately what had happened. Sergei's suspicious nature had once again come out ahead.
t-ALOS was gone- the tanks had all been removed. The legacy research T-002 tyrant had recently been released. And…another tank had been decanted. Recently, as well; the floor around it was still wet.
He knew that tank. He'd put the occupant in there himself. Pored over her data, meagre as it was with Spencer's embargo in place. She hadn't been in the mansion, technically the least secure access point out, albeit the least pleasant. Which meant…
A local level file had been left open- unencrypted, at the same level as the tank controls. The researchers had requested that recent playbacks be made available for quick note-taking and review, holding a day's playback locally before logging it to the database. The system had logged the tank's shutdown several hours earlier - Dr. Clemens, dragging himself to the terminal nearly gone himself, looking forlornly around- and the emergency doors releasing about an hour and a half later. The video logs…
Showed Sergei's loyal tyrant guard passively abetting what appeared to be a small woman, scurrying behind the back of the executive smugly surveying her former prison.
Albert Wesker, forever Umbrella spy and STARS captain, gave a short laugh of disbelief. There was nothing soft in the smile that he wore.
It seemed that one of the tyrants would be salvageable after all.
