Village

Part One:

-Tall Tales-

Chapter 2: Women

He tumbled against the wall, shaking from withdrawals. His pulse was too fast, his breathing too ragged, his heart too broken to beat right. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and chugged, calming his nerves and clearing away the clarity that terrified him. He didn't want to think clearly.

He didn't want to remember.

The whiskey settled in his empty stomach. He leaned against the wall and made a sound of abject despair. He couldn't muster up the tears - he tried and came up dry heaving instead as if he'd vomit. He was simply too empty for crying. The only thing left inside his shell was grief.

He drowned that out with the booze.

His heart told him it was desperate for it all to end. It wanted peace. It wanted release. It wanted Claire.

It would get none of those things.

Why?

Claire was dead.

Claire was dead on a slab in the morgue.

Claire was dead in the ground.

Claire...and the baby she'd carried.

The grief had teeth. It tore him apart and left him exposed, exsanguinated, and eviscerated. He was guts and blood and burning pain on the ground. She'd died carrying his baby. His baby, her baby, their baby. She was eight weeks pregnant.

The moment he'd found her body, half turned, half beautifully lost, half horribly slain...he'd nearly forgotten the most important thing...nowhere in the house was his daughter. His daughter was missing. His daughter was still alive.

He'd been clutching Claire's body for so long his hands were numb when his trembling lips had uttered the words, "...get up...now."

So he let her go and rose.

His hands were shaking and covered in her blood. His body moved on it's own accord, stumbling into the main part of the house to check the security camera. He saw it. He watched it happen. The moment he'd left and the peace that had been there until the world had shattered. Natalia...?! Natalia and her monsters taking his child from the floor as she'd wept. He'd seen the man known as "The Mountain" that shared Claire's eyes swoop in like a savior...too late...too fucking late...and finish off his mutating wife in a single set of shots.

As it happened, her hand lifted like a plea to her brother who rose above her like the wrath of God, and Leon whispered, "...no." Like it would stop it. As if it could. She collapsed, the blood pooled around her, and Chris sank to his knees to lift her against him.

Apparently, they'd both cuddled her corpse and wept.

It was the only thing that bound them in this moment because the rage that beat in his chest was like nothing he'd ever known. Chris had shot her while she lay on the ground pleading. He'd shot her in the head as if she were nothing more than another monster.

Leon had still been sitting there rewatching that moment over and over when the back up had arrived. They'd taken her. They'd combed his house. They'd pronounced him in shock and put him in the back of an ambulance like an invalid.

Gigi was missing. Gigi was out there, kidnapped, in the hands of a killer. Maybe Natalia hadn't pulled the trigger, but she'd stood there and forced fear into a woman still living with a virus in her that coupled to fear like a whore to a hundred dollar bill. Claire had turned and done the best she could to save her child.

Claire...who'd died on the ground pleading.

He started the digging the moment he could. He tugged lines and turned over stones to find answers. He'd started burning a pretty good path before they'd brought him the news. She'd had died carrying their second child.

He lost all the feeling his hands as if someone had severed his spinal cord. He found himself back at the bar in Colorado Springs, a mess, a disaster, a drunk without hope. He was in his own house this time and wasted in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

His world had no meaning.

He threw the bottle of whiskey at the fireplace. It whooshed wildly, trying to ignite the wall and he taunted, "That all you got!? Burn this fucker down around me...I dare you!"

No such luck. It seemed he'd live to see another dawn.

Another dawn without Claire.

He collapsed on his side on the couch.

He dreamed of Gigi bathed in her mother's blood. He dreamed of fire and a circle within a circle that ringed around something that might have been human once. He dreamed of chanting monks and midgets and parasites birthed from the backs of mutated monsters.

He woke soaked in sweat and on his face on the floor.

The hangover beat behind his eyes with a hammers endless strike. He groaned, rolling to his side to find balance on the coffee table and propel himself to his feet. What was he doing? His daughter was somewhere in the world terrified and alone and waiting for him.

Chris likely out there turning the world red in blood to find her.

While he was here...withering away like a hag in a forest without protection. He pictured Claire on the couch reading that story. He blinked twice to clear his tired eyes. Where had she gotten the book? He remembered something she'd said when he'd rolled in that evening from work.

"Natalia gave me the greatest set of fairytales for Gigi."

Natalia.

She was the key. She was the answer. What did the books have to do with it?

He found his way into the living room and picked up the books still scattered in the corner where most of Gigi's toys were. Different tales of things that didn't even attempt to soften themselves for children. It really was an American past time to turn most of the old tales "Disney" to spare delicate eyes.

He leafed through the one about the hag. It told of a village named Groazei where the people had become corrupt and filled with vanity. They wanted to burn the forest to free the sprites to work like slaves for their own greed.

The hag began leading their children to her to create some kind of army and over take the village. It was a dark tale offering the reader some idea of how to keep what's important and best to avoid vanity or greed. A cautionary tale at the very core.

He switched to the next one - a book about vampires essentially. As he read, he googled on his phone for the words that popped off each page. A website dedicated to Romanian myths drew his eye (*1).

It read: The existence of "strigoi" or evil spirits is famous folklore in the Transylvanian village of Bran. These evil spirits live normal lives by day and torment villagers by night. They are thought to be the inspiration to the famous work of Bram Stoker, who fictionalized the vampire with superhuman powers known as Count Dracula.

It went on to talk about Lakes of Sacrifices - One particular story states that several homes along with one church were submerged by floodwaters when an adjacent slope collapsed. At first, the residents of the nearby village of Tisa believed that the church bells were commemorating Easter on that fateful day. But it was later discovered that a natural catastrophe is what caused the incessant ringing.

It segued into a story of mass kidnapping of children. Detailing a specific tale that was familiar to everyone - The Pied Piper. Well, according to Romanian myths, the town of Hamelin was once infested with rats and this caused havoc amongst the residents of the area.

A mysterious piper agreed to fix the problem in exchange for cash. Unfortunately, when the situation was brought under control, the residents of Hamelin refused to compensate for his service. This made the piper furious and, in vengeance, he started playing a different tune which was enough to brainwash all the kids in town to follow him.

One thing remained clear in each tale and each story - a village was at the heart of the horror. The pictures and drawings that accompanied each shared a similar architectural element of carpathian villages - from white washed walls to thatched rooves that had somehow survived the test of time. By the time he reached the end of a row of photos, one thing remained glaringly obvious - the villages all looked nearly identical to the untrained eye.

Was it likely they were the same after all?

If Natalia had run to Romania with Gigi, why leave something so glaringly obvious behind about where she might have gone?

The answer to that was more simple that anything - she wanted him to follow. She had to. She had to know he would. Why not just leave a calling card by the door with an address on it?

He reached for the final story. The door bell drew his hand up short. Annoyed, Leon rose to move through the empty living room toward the call. He had one hand on the stock of his gun when the other revealed the person waiting on his porch.

"Ada."

She was beautiful. She was always beautiful, so this was nothing new. He studied her studious expression with some level of disdain. Why was she here, now, encroaching on his misery?

"Leon, long time, no see."

The red coat she wore concealed whatever confection waited beneath the heavy cloth. Her dark bob of hair was glossy and highlighted the perfect curve of her lips and eyes. He gave her a long suffering look, "What do you want, Ada? I'm busy."

"...are you? I didn't think it took much to self destruct."

He nearly shut the door in her face, but if she was there...she had something he needed. He was positive of that. Did she know where Gigi was? To curb the impulse to slam the door, he stepped back.

"Judge yourself, Wong. Tell me what you want and get lost."

Ada moved into his house like she lived there. She divested herself of her coat and hung it by the door. She was wear leather pants in black and a scarlet top in an oriental style with cranes and black piping. She looked, as always, flawless.

She perched on a stool in his kitchen and instructed, "Get a drink, Leon. You'll need it."

He gave her a filthy look, "I'm done with that."

"Oh? For how long? An hour now?"

If he could have melted her on the spot, his burning glare would have done it. "I'm not in the mood, Ada. So, no games. Ok? I just-" He trailed off and turned away, shaking his head, "Just not today."

Feeling something like sympathy, Ada sighed, "You have to forget about the loss. You've still got something to save here." She reached into her back pocket and removed an envelope. He watched her toss it on the counter.

With a brush of real anger, he accused, "Where were you, Ada? You're here now, but where were you before? You could have stopped this."

She gave him a cool look, "Could I? I'm not omnipotent, Leon. I can't see everything. I didn't know about Natalia."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It doesn't matter what you believe. I'm telling you the truth. I didn't know. I know now...so stop pouting and pick up the damn envelope."

He snatched it up, fuming, and tore it open. Inside, glossy photos spilled out into his hands. Natalia as a girl. Natalia as a teen. Natalia as a woman. No. NO. Not Natalia. Another blonde woman - pretty, yes, but not exactly the same. It took his mind a moment to make sense of it before he muttered, "Wesker?"

Ada gave him a cool look, "Wesker. The village in those photos was operated almost entirely by Blue Umbrella. Eveline - you read the reports Redfield filed on her from Dulvey, yes?"

"...of course."

"Eveline was the first of the E-Series, but she wasn't the last. They took some liberties with E-002. They tried to negate the rotting aspect of the mold properties and purify the subject...sadly, the best they could do was preserve her. She didn't progress past infancy and she needed protected. They set up agents in the town and utilized resources there to secure her. Sadly, for that damn town, it didn't have the clout to stop it from being usurped."

Leon lifted his gaze from the photos to her face as Ada clarified, "Wesker used outside help to take the town. She played on the fears of the town people and made it seem like she was there to save it from itself. The village collapsed under the pressure of superstition and Wesker's agents moved right in to set up a base of operations. Blue Umbrella couldn't keep a foothold and lost their advantage. In typical fashion, they underestimated foreign operatives need to thrive. What's there now...it was bred from a backwoods version of devotion to stories that existed long before science clarified the inadequacy of it all."

Leon flipped through more photos. The eerie sense of deja vu pursued him around his own memories. He'd seen what a village corrupted looked like before. He'd barely survived the last one. Why had Natalia taken Gigi there? If they have E-002, why did they need his daughter?

In answer to that, Ada told him, "Claire successfully stopped one form of Wesker on that island and seemingly halted T-Phobos, but she failed to kill her entirely. She transplanted her conscious into that little girl that Burton brought him to raise. Natalia is Alex Wesker."

They held gazes until he remarked, "I should be surprised, right? I should be shocked."

"...we both know it's not the worst thing you've ever heard."

"...so why take Gigi? Why not just use E-002?"

"Blue Umbrella secured her from The Connections, but they weren't able to stop her metamorphosis. My guess? Wesker needs Gigi's blood to instill some kind of anitbodies into the bloated infant they're harboring and create a stronger virus."

Leon drummed his fingers on the counter top beside him, "She was talking about the other Wesker when she came after Claire."

They held gazes as he added, "She was talking about needing Gigi for her brother. Why? Is it possible to put his conscious into the infant?"

Ada pursed her lips in thought, "Possibly, but the infant was female and last I heard - inferior. It wouldn't survive, from my research, even if infused with Gigi's blood. They need a stronger host."

He shook his head, "So, Gigi isn't the host either?"

"Potentially, I supposed she could be, but Wesker wouldn't really do well in a female shell. My guess is that Wesker might be attempting to something as simple as creating an offspring that she'll carry herself and transfer the conscious over. If she can manipulate the DNA to remain male, birthing her own brother's new host would make perfect sense given that she's in a body of a young, fertile, and very capable host herself."

Leon gave her a sharp look, "You think she's going to give birth to a new Albert Wesker?"

"I wouldn't put it past her. I think the only way to know for sure is to get there and raid that damn village to stop her. Whatever she's planning, it won't be good. Two Weskers on a war path is a terrifying concept. Each one nearly destroyed everything in their path the first time around."

Leon shook his head, "You're saying the village might be protecting them?"

"If Alex Wesker has set herself up as some kind of a mother of prophecy or fairy tale, I think you've got a fight on your hands."

It wouldn't be the first time he fought a village to save the world. It wouldn't be the last. This time? It was personal. All he had left in his own world was waiting there in those ramshackle houses beneath a layer of fear and superstition. He'd kill every last one of them to bring her home.

Quietly, Ada informed him, "I would suggest you keep an eye on the other Redfield as well."

Leon's brow furrowed as she finished, "The whispers say he's lost it. He's taken loyal groups of cronies and killed three potential informants for The Connections. Apparently, he's not looking to make informed decisions here. He's just hunting for revenge."

Leon felt a shiver of understanding. Was he any different? Truly? If he had the men at his disposal and the resources, would he scorch the Earth in her memory? Even though he knew she'd never condone or forgive it?

The men involved in both the cover up of the E-Series and the failure to contain it...from Blue Umbrella to The Connections...were they really innocent? Did they deserve mercy or understanding? Was Chris on the war path...or the right path?

Leon studied his haggard reflection in the shiny face of the refrigerator. What was the right path? What if it all led him to Gigi? What would he risk or destroy to recover her? What would he give up to hold her again?

Ada gave him a long, knowing look, "Don't forget who you are."

Surprised, they held eyes while the memory of what they'd been hummed between them. She'd never been the love of his life. That was six feet under somewhere and lost to him. She'd never been more than a fantasy from the whim of a man without hope. She wasn't a lover, she wasn't a friend, she wasn't more than an informant now.

But part of her would always know him better than Claire ever had. She saw his darkness. She accepted his nooks and crannies filled with lies and deceit. She knew, under the guise, a hardened soul festered with rot. Claire had seen the good in him. She'd brought it out with hands that held instead of hurried. Ada...she cultivated lies like a criminal. She forced him to face reality with a nearly careless sense of right and wrong. Her right was never his.

And now Chris was on a path laden with landmines made of deception. He'd never find his way back from it. Even as he stood there facing his own darkness, Leon knew part of Chris had died in Edonia and never really come back. Losing Claire...it was the nail in the coffin of what he'd been trying so hard to hold onto. He was gone. The question was...was there anything left of him worth saving?

Could he save the brother to honor the sister? Could he pull Chris back? Or would he simply descend into the dark with him to die? Was Ada somehow the key to his own preservation?

Was she offering him a mission to save his daughter, to save Chris, as a way of keeping him from collapsing on himself like a dying star?

The old urge to grab her and turn her over the table to fuck her worked around his guts. It was stalled by a need to take Claire in his arms and hold her. Claire had always been waiting under the murky cover of Ada for him to find himself. She was lost to him.

Was all he had left in this world Ada?

A scary thought. A sobering one. The first real moment of clarity he'd had in days.

He told her, gruffly, "Thank you for the info...I'm good here."

Ada scanned his countenance. She resisted the urge to touch his arm and offering sympathy. Pity didn't motivate a man like Leon Kennedy. It left him chomping at the bit in festering rage. She'd either damn them both or cripple him with any kind of real emotion.

So, instead, she told him, "My sources saw her..."

His brows winged up, "Whom?"

She gave him a cool look, "Your daughter. As of twelve hours ago, she was alive. I can't offer you the promise she'll be for long."

It was more than he'd expected. He nodded and gripped the pictures on the counter. "Where?"

"Moarte...a fitting name for a town drenched in death. You can get there with this."

She tossed him a set of keys. Their gazes held for long enough that she finally broke the silence, "...don't wreck it, hotshot."

His mouth twitched giving her the first hope he just might survive the redhead's death. She'd do what she could to help him. Her resources were limited when it came to Blue Umbrella. She'd yet to get a foothold with any of their agents.

She suspected that the BSAA had plants in Moarte as well. She was hoping one would turn up to help Kennedy before Redfield laid waste to it all in a journey of destruction and revenge. She was hoping Leon had one more man against the world mission in him.

She was reluctant to bury him if he lost the child. She knew, he knew, that Gigi's death would be his own. Hell, he'd barely come back from losing Claire. She was almost positive losing his daughter would be the last rung on a ladder that dropped into nothing.

When he stared at her, she backed up two paces and finished, "Good luck...you'll need it."

"Ada...thank you."

She shrugged that away as she headed for the door, offering one more piece of advice, "...trust no one, Leon...and come back alive."

Leon watched her go with his heart racing. Alive...he was. He was alive with hope that just maybe this ended with his daughter once again in his arms. Could he do it? Could he save his world one more time?

He tossed the keys in the air and caught them with a jingle of sound. He had to let go of the one he'd lost. He had to save the one who'd been taken. He had to trust the one who'd often betrayed him. He had to kill the one who'd burnt his world all around him. He was surrounded by one very simple truth. His life wasn't his own.

It, quite simply, was ruled by, "...women."

And it was his destiny to always be buried in them.