Author's note:

Sorry for the slow updating here. Too many stories, too little time. I haven't played Veronica in like three thousand years. This is the abridged, confused, and slightly weird version my brain can construct. It is all over the place, I have no clue if it follows the game. It has the general idea down (maybe). But it's where the story is going. Thanks for reading it. It's so silly and simple. I'm glad it's amusing people.

Slainte!

….

VII: WHICH BATHROOM DO I USE? THE STORY OF A GENDER CONFUSED BOY NAMED ALFRED

ROCKFORT ISLAND, 1998

:::::::::::::::::SEVEN::::::::::::::::::::

Claire went into the dark watching the freak with the sunglasses jump up into the sky like a cracked out tigger. He just POOFED, right up over the wall and was gone. Because...that was entirely humanly possible.

His eyes flashed like the Terminator behind the lenses of his glasses as he went.

Red.

Frightening.

She trembled, and collapsed.

When she awoke, she was lying on her back on a smooth mattress.

It was a bedroom of some kind filled with knickknacks and things belonging to a girl...an ELEGANT girl based on the quality of the perfume bottles and the preciousness of the stones in the jewelry that Claire could see.

She was alone in the bedroom and seemed safe enough.

Rolling her legs to the side, Claire sat up.

She moved to the small desk across the room and leafed gingerly through the diary that sat on its dusty surface. It was a girls loopy scrawl. It was a collection of thoughts and feelings about the Ashford Family and the "responsibility" of being "noble". It started to turn darker as the diary wore on. A young girl was growing up alone in this mansion with only a father.

It started to talk about "feelings" for her brother. Her twin. It mentioned "want". It went into detail for eight pages about a dream she'd had regarding being "penetrated" body and soul by her "other piece". It read: We shared a womb once, I feel as though fate will lead us to share one again.

Horrified, disgusted, Claire shuddered and turned away from the diary.

Apparently worms and zombies and cracked out Terminator Tiggers weren't all that was corrupt and gross on this island. It was the isle of incest too, it seemed. She wasn't sure why, but the brother and sister pickle tickling bothered her more than the zombies and the death.

It was a sad reflection of how little surprised her anymore.

She started to dig through the other files on the desk and the door opened.

Startled, Claire turned toward it.

A woman in a long purple gown emerged.

They were both caught off guard for a brief moment.

Until the woman lifted the ENORMOUS rifle in her hands and aimed it at Claire's face.

"SO!" She intoned in a rich dulcet voice, "You are Claire Redfield. Have you come to destroy my family?"

Claire shifted a little, hands raised. "No. I swear. I just want off this island."

"Liar." The gun tracked her as Claire shifted away from the desk, "For the pride of the Ashford Family, I will destroy you to protect what's mine!"

The gun went off, Claire dove for it, and skidded over the floor beside the bed. The bullet hit the mattress and threw goosedown and feathers up in the air in a poof of destruction.

Claire tried again, huddled on the floor, "WAIT! PLEASE! We're just trying to get away. I swear!"

"Stop playing the fool! I saw you in the courtyard with HIM! I know why HE'S here!"

Well, shit.

Wesker - fucking things up without even trying since Raccoon City.

The slick haired bastard.

Claire heard the gun cock again. She lifted her hands to ward off her own death.

And the door opened again.

The gun whipped around with a squeal of surprise from Alexia.

And Claire heard Leon's voice, "What the fuck?"

Claire shouted, "LEON!"

And two guns went off at the same time.

Alexia was thrown back into the wall with a cry of pain and she grabbed the bust of a man beside her and shoved. The wall tilted and opened and she slipped through. Claire rolled from behind the bed, hurrying to where Leon was leaning on the desk.

He had a hand cupped over his biceps. He was bleeding pretty badly.

Claire slapped her hand over it to help. "Oh god! You're ok?"

"Well, I'm SHOT. So that sucks. But I'm not dead. So, I guess it's 50/50."

Claire rolled her eyes and kissed him, hard.

He glanced at the wall where Alexia had gone. "Secret passage huh?"

"Looks that way. Wait here, I'll go after her."

Leon's look was deadpan. "Right. I'm gonna leave you alone in a mansion where there decor consists of melted dead baby dolls hanging grotesquely from the ceiling like ugly chandeliers...right."

Claire chuckled a little, "You see Steve?"

"Sideburns is fine. He's messing around in one of the offices trying to get some information on the pieces we need to get the bridge moving to the plane."

"Ok." Claire picked up a pair of silk stockings from the boudoir. She tied them around his biceps to act as a bandage. When it was secure and holding, they moved together toward the little door and eased it to the side to slip through.

The other room was clearly Alfred's.

It was masculine. From toy guns to model trains on the desk to the painting on the wall of the man in question. An effeminate looking thing, he was tall and skinny and blonde. He was the "masculine" version of his sister. But while Alexia had seemed regal and ladylike, Alfred seemed girlish and weak.

Across the blue bedspread, a blonde wig lay forlornly.

Claire glanced at Leon with raised brows. He shrugged a little and poked the wig with the bowgun.

Claire touched a button on the dresser and a tiny musical projector clicked on. The video that flickered on the wall were two toe headed children huddled together pulling the wings off dragonflies. They'd pluck and smile, pluck and sigh. Twins, clearly, they put their foreheads together when the ants converged on the dragonfly and started eating.

Their joy was evident and innocent...and disgusting.

Claire and Leon both made grossed out faces.

"Pervs."

Claire had to agree with Leon's statement.

A music box sat to one side. It was hand carved and lovely...and locked. The lid was an ornate sapphire bedazzled silver filigreed indention...in the shape of an ant.

Brows lifted, Leon pulled the blue ant from his pocket and poked it in the indentation.

There was a click of sound and the canopy of the bed beside them lowered with a metallic whine and a whir or gears. A ladder waited for them to ascend.

Leon glanced at Claire.

Claire glanced at the ladder.

And he said, "Nope."

She laughed a little and rubbed his arm. "Wait here, tough guy, I'll go."

Shaking his head, he boosted her up to the canopy and followed her up. They went up the ladder with Claire leading the charge.

The attic was dusty and cluttered with boxes unlabeled and half empty. A quick perusal of them found nothing of interest...save for the massive carousel that sat in the center of the dingy darkness.

Claire pursed her lips.

Leon licked his teeth.

And she said, "Nope."

Leon laughed a little and moved toward the carousel.

Claire flipped through papers and read newspaper clippings: Ten year old genius graduates at the top of her class. Hired by Umbrellla Inc. as a head researcher.

A ten year old girl!?

Genius or not...what a stupid ass company, Claire thought, who hires a KID to be a top researcher? Maybe a top TASTE TESTER for cereal or something. But a researcher? A ten year playing with world ending viruses.

Horrifying.

A small dragonfly in pretty silver was waiting below the newspaper clipping. Claire picked it up and touched one delicate wing. It shivered and clicked down into the spindely body. Lips pursed, Claire turned to look at the ant on the wall beside her. It was huge, massive, a gross but loving painted homage to a nasty bug.

A nasty bug with a hole in the face that was waiting for something.

Maybe something that would feed it.

Like a dragonfly.

Claire fed the dragonfly to the ant.

Even thinking it made her feel dumb.

But it worked like a charm because the ladder on the carousel dropped with a plop and a thunk, startling the former rookie cop that was poking around on the enormous carousel looking for clues.

This time, Kennedy took the ladder to the top and left Claire below.

He returned after a moment with a grin, and a proof in one hand. "I'm thinking? Key to the platform Sideburns was talking about."

Claire grinned back,"Let's blow this Popsicle stand."

"Read my mind, hotstuff."

They went back into the bedroom together and moved toward the door.

Above them, a loud shriek of rage filled the room and Alfred Ashford leaped down from the canopy atop Leon whooping like a banshee.

Claire shouted and slapped at him. Leon kicked him so hard he was thrown into the dresser and slid like a lump to the floor and the gun in his hands skittered around the floor.

Leon grabbed it, pointed it at him, and they all froze.

Because Ashford was wearing makeup.

Tasteful, smudged, expertly applied - but make up.

He blinked at them.

They blinked back.

And his head rolled to the mirror on the dresser beside him.

"What is it?!" He screeched in that whiny girl voice of his and then he squealed in horror, "What!? What is this!? WHAT IS THIS!? NO! NOOOO! NOOOOO! NO IT CAN'T BE! ALEXIA!? WHY?! WHAT!? WHATTTT!?"

He pulled his hair, shrieking and dancing. He slapped his face. He stuck a finger in his nose and wiggled it. He pulled his lips and made raspberries with his mouth. He slapped the mirror and started sobbing, high pitched and horrible.

"I AM A MAN!" High pitched and rage filled. And then? His voice became soft and feminine, "I am a woman!"

He swirled where he stood, dancing. He shrieked, "I HAVE A PENIS!"

He paused to blush and affect a curtsy, "I have a vagina!"

He pointed at them, "BOY GIRL BOY GIRL BOY GIRL! BOYGIRL! Boy? GIRL? ALEXIA! ALEXIA!? WHERE ARE YOU!? WHAT HAVE I DONE!? WHAT AM I!?"

Leon felt one of them should answer, maybe. Maybe? "Transgender?"

Claire intoned, "Nuts?"

And Alfred shrieked, "I HAVE NUTS! YOU BITCH! I AM A MAN!" His voice turned female again, "I AM ALEXIA ASHFORD! I am an ASHFORDDDD! FAAAATHER!

And he fled the room screaming with a tantrum and grief.

Claire and Leon were rooted to the floor in shock.

Finally, Leon spoke, "Was there ever an Alexia?"

Claire shrugged a little, "I don't know?!"

They glanced at each other again. Leon coughed a little, "Which bathroom do you think he uses?"

Claire shook her head, "I don't give a shit, as long as he washes his damn hands."

"Can't argue with that. Why do I kinda feel sorry for him...her?"

They stepped into the hallway together. It was dark and dreary. As they moved, Claire realized they whole place was. She saw what he meant about macabre. The place was a torture palace.

The sick kids in the video they'd seen had clearly used the mansion as their playground of horrors. Bodies dangled, bloated and rotting. Someone had gutted one where it swung, spilling intestines to the floor like a burst pinata of crap.

They were nearly to the stairs with the bleating of sound filled the air.

It was loud and obnoxious, "THE SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE HAS BEEN ACTIVATED! PLEASE VACATE THE PREMISES DIRECTLY!"

Leon sighed dramatically, "Of course they're gonna blow the place up. Why not? It seems to be Umbrella's answer to everything these days."

"Right? Assholes."

They raced across the courtyard and found Steve rushing toward them. He was waving his arm with excitement, "I FOUND THE NAVY PROOF!"

Without pausing, they followed his skinny butt back to the submarine. He went first, wiggling down the ladder.

Claire started down after him.

And the voice of the enemy drifted around them, "Leaving so soon, Claire?"

Wesker waited on the walkway beside the submarine. And the speakers informed them they had ten minutes to detonation.

Claire struggled back up the ladder. The world shook as something exploded. And something erupted out of the water behind them.

The sexless thing was all muscle. It had claws on one hand and a sneer on its rotting face. It's flesh was gray and necrotic.

And, just like that, they were trapped between two bad guys.

Wesker considered them, smiling, "It seems the tyrant has decided to play with you instead. Perhaps I will await my turn for the arrival of your brother."

Another explosion had them staggering, and Wesker took off into the sky like Superman.

Leon blinked. Claire said, "Yep. He can do THAT."

"Whafuck?"

"Right?"

And the tyrant leaped at them.

Leon pushed Claire left and dove right, the tyrant landed between them and punched one way and kicked the other, and Claire just wasn't fast enough. The push had saved her life but not her face. The punch glanced off her jaw, she spun 360 from the strength of it, and she fell down into the opening where the ladder was. The kick caught the former rookie right in the junk as he sprang forward to grab her to safety.

Leon took a massive kick to the nuts like a champ though. He grabbed himself and staggered but he did NOT fall down.

So it was kinda a victory.

Claire meanwhile was out before she even fell. Her eyes rolled back in her head and down she went. Leon shouted with rage, and he heard Sideburns yell, "She's unconscious but alive! I'll get her to the plane!"

And Leon shouted back, "Get her out of here! You hear me!? GET HER OUT OF HERE! I'LL HOLD THIS MOTHER FUCKER RIGHT HERE!"

This was another shining moment where there was a hero born inside of a coward. The boy who'd panicked and squeaked at his first zombie faced down the massively muscled mutated form of the tyrant without a glimmer of fear.

Well, with a HUGE glimmer of fear, but bravery was often born in fear.

The tyrant raced for him, Leon leaped off the submarine and ran for it to lead it away, and the sounds of swirling engines was punctuated by explosions and crackling fire and the promise of the self destruct sequence telling them they had five minutes.

Leon backed up, heard the tyrant give chase, and said goodbye to Claire as he raced toward the only hope left - stopping the self destruct sequence, killing the tyrant, and saving the girl he loved. He prayed she'd forgive him for being the hero.

He doubted she would.

He figured if she woke up safe, maybe she'd over look the fact that her safety had come at the expense of his.

The tyrant roared, Leon figured it was slightly less scary than Claire's rage when she awoke to find him gone, and considered the fact that Sideburns was now alone with an unconscious Claire. Here was hoping the dirty little perv had a decent soul under that wasted bravado and horndog shell. Because all the hopes were pinned on him now.

That's right, he was trusting Sideburns to save his girl. He had no idea how the hell he was going to get off this island now. He was pretty sure his bladder was going to BURST soon with the need to take a piss. He was starving and cold and bleeding. His girl was in the clutches of a dirty pervert slash protector. He was being chased by a monster with enormous claws. He had no weapon. He had one shoe untied. His hair was sticking up with some kind of gunk like an ugly mowhawk. He smelled like garbage and fart. His balls were throbbing from the kick he'd taken on the submarine.

He had no CLUE where to find the shut off for the self destruct sequence.

And his only hope was that Chris Redfield got there in time to save him.

He was a damsel in distress. HE was the damsel. It was too ironic to be anything but horrifying.

It was officially the worst night of his life.