"My greatest sin will be the part I played in creating this horror." She could see him so clearly; his once handsome features battered by the infected and his usually charming smile warping into a sick grimace as the virus took over his body. His back arching up angrily and his eyes shooting open to reveal the deathly grey film: these were the images that kept her up at night. And all she could picture now was her niece's sweet face gnawing on some poor victim, her mind succumbing to the virus.
Her vision blurred as adrenaline took over. She heard the childish whimpers in the corner and a man's panicked whispers. Rotting flesh hit her nostrils at once. Decaying matter never unsettled her stomach unless it was hot, but she seemed to be extra sensitive to it tonight. Instinctively, she fell to one knee with her arms extended before her. The old splinters tore at her khakis' tight thread count and into her skin. Everything was happening so fast - the screams and the frenzy and the looming figure ahead of her.
It was his fault. The blood was on his hands. If John Strife had never unleashed the T-virus upon this country then this wouldn't be happening. Her finger shook against the trigger. It was because of Strife that the people she loved were in danger. It would only take one shot. One shot and she could rid the world of this horrible creature. She squeezed the trigger, and her vision went white.
It was an odd feeling to have all her senses alive and at full attention except her eyesight. She could hear the sickening crack erupt when the bullet impacted the skull, and the body's dull thump to the floor. There was a moment afterwards where not a single breath was taken in fear that the entire moment hadn't happened at all. Her heart was beating to a shaken rhythm forced upon her by the scene's electricity. Had she hit her intended target?
"You fucking cretin! You almost shot me," Strife exclaimed.
She licked her lips and drew a deep breath into her hungry lungs. Leon was beside her now, his own gun drawn and ready to fire
"Nice shot," Leon said blandly.
Aleksandra's eyes followed the path before her and right up to John Strife's lanky, cursing frame. Behind him was a decrepit form that used to resemble a teenage girl.
She stood up and whispered, "I missed."
She watched Leon's eyes flick to her. Had he heard her whisper? She quietly went through all the actions of a maternal figure: patting her niece's head, hushing her in a warm tone laced with her native Russian, and claiming that everything was alright at the moment. But she still kept Leon in the corner of her eye. He was studying her like she was the virus itself; appalled and curious.
"You're so cold, I sometimes wonder if you are capable of any emotion at all." The accusation had come from someone dear to her, but they were wrong…to an extent. The BSAA trained all their new recruits how to contain a situation like the German outbreak. They were shown pictures from lab tests showing the toll the T-virus could take on a human being. They were warned about the dangers of infection and trained to deal with them appropriately. But the BSAA never mentioned that these creatures were once human. They had lives before becoming infected. They had families and traditions. They were in the middle of first loves and old romances. They cried and smiled. They were…human at one point. She crossed the room, dropped to her knees beside the body, laid her pistol beside her leg, and began to recite the Lord's Prayer. The child followed word for word.
A persnickety scoff came from John Strife's position on the floor.
"She does this every so often. I keep telling her that she's already breaking a commandment by killing the damn things."
Aleksandra's shoulders tensed up. Her faith had been tested quite a bit the last few days, and the last she wanted to hear was John Strife's comments on her Catholic upbringing.
"Technically, they're already dead. She's putting them to rest," Leon said. "Aleksandra, we need to move. The gunshot may have alerted more infected."
She nodded and spouted a few orders to the girl in Russian. Her eyes searched the room as the child zipped up her jacket and pulled a dark messenger bag over her own body.
"Strife…where's the woman?"
Strife winced as he pulled a bandaged leg over so he could stand with his good one. Aleksandra completely ignored the pained grimace.
"She took off when you heard the thing downstairs," Strife muttered through clenched teeth.
"That would explain the door left open," said Leon.
Aleksandra's dark eyes were instantly on Leon; bewildered and angry. She mumbled something before cussing in Russian. She already had her niece's small hand and was beginning to lead the child towards their exit when she tossed a glance back to Leon.
"You might want to grab him…" she said over her shoulder. The hatred sliced through the air like a hot knife through ice. One thing was for certain – Aleksandra truly despised John Strife.
Most of the infected had congregated at the bakery's front door. They had decided that they would use the fire escape to maneuver down to the back alley. From there, they would make the block and come around to Leon's interest point. It seemed like a simple enough plan.
They managed to climb down the bakery's fire escape with great ease. Aleksandra took to the front while Leon guarded the back once they were on the streets. Leon would need an experienced set of eyes to see what was ahead of them while he watched for what could be following them.
Leon shifted the direction towards Charles Westcliffe. He had already spent too much time getting this small group to safety, and now he had his own operation to see to. Aleksandra plucked her niece from the ground and carried her closely at her side.
"Where are you going?" Her voice was knotted with worry and it stopped Leon's determined stride for a moment.
"I told you, I have to retrieve Charles Westcliffe and head to my rendezvous point. I would've been there by now if Claire hadn't sent me to you."
"Claire Redfield is the one that sent you?" This time, the confusion etched on Aleksandra's face was blatantly clear.
Leon nodded and noted the sudden paleness in her cheeks. Her pace became hurried as she nudged him towards the building she had last received a signal from. It wasn't the address he had been given.
"I don't understand." He re-checked the map on his phone. "Why would the BSAA give me wrong directions?"
"I'm sure it wasn't intentional," John muttered from Leon's side. "We spied Mr. Westcliffe making a mad dash to a new building yesterday morning."
Leon turned towards Aleksandra, her dark eyes following his movements cautiously.
"You've kept in constant contact with the government…did you not report the change in his location?" A single eyebrow arched up as she reminded Leon that she reported every detail until the batteries ran out on the cheap radio.
The group continued silently through the alleyways until they reached the back of the building Charles was last seen at. They opted for the rickety fire-escape once more, since the main streets had grown in the infected numbers. Looming in the distance was a creature smaller than a Licker but faster than most of the cadavers walking about. Light from a flickering lamp showed the creature for what it used to be: a police officer's K-9. His harness was still tightly bound to his shredded torso, although some parts were tattered from his previous battles with infected. His bloodied teeth gnashed as he staggered forward. Aleksandra kept an eye on him as she quietly raised the ladder. They were safe, as long as they stayed on the first level or higher. She doubted the German Sheppard's ability to jump higher than normal, but she wasn't going to take any chances. Crimson saliva pooled around his mouth and fell to the street with a grotesque dripping.
There was a nearby dumpster that was at the perfect height to jump to the fire escape. Aleksandra prayed that the dog wasn't smart enough to realize the same thing she had. The metal rocked back and forth as the child and John Strife were pushed onto the roof. The dog was growling louder now, and she feared that his snarling would bring more infected about. If she tried to move the dumpster, there was a chance that he would notice her plan and attack. There was no possible way that she was faster than that animal. The other possibility was that she could go ahead and scale the fire escape and take her chances on the animal forgetting its training when going up slanted ladders.
She bit her lip.
"Tyotia, it's your turn now!" Aleksandra's stare faltered as she heard her niece's high pitched whisper. The dog was already sprinting by the time she had decided on a plan. She propelled a leg through the bar siding and kicked at the dumpster with every bit of muscle she could muster. Without turning for a second glance, she made a mad dash for the ladder. The screeching metal caused her heart to freeze as she rolled against the second level's flat surface. Staring at her from beneath the metal curtain was the German Sheppard, its lips curled into a hungry grin. It circled a bit before laying its front paws on the bars.
"Govno." Of all the dogs in all the world and she had to get the one that had learned to climb ladders. She scrambled up the second ladder just as the dog finished the first. A loud creak screamed into the night as both Leon and Aleksandra's eyes darted to the bolts prying themselves from the old brick. She climbed the third ladder and could clearly see Leon's eyes following the animal behind her. She braced herself as the top of the fire escape gave out and tilted, sending the animal to the ground below and Aleksandra sliding to the siding. She collided with the cold metal and grunted as she felt her body leave the surface of the fire escape and her left foot hook into the bars.
"Tyotia," her niece cried out. Leon lunged forward and thrust his hand towards Aleksandra.
Aleksandra cursed under breath and sighed as she dangled above the German Sheppard. Her neck craned about as she felt the dog's hot breath as it tried to snap at her jugular. It would only take another inch or so before he was able to latch on. She watched as the second set of bolts cringed underneath the added weight. If she was going to make a move, she would have to do it fast, as a small crowd of infected had gathered at the commotion brewing. She waited for the dog to slink back to the ground, hurled her top half back to the metal railings, and untangled her leg. Leon was just a few feet above her. His own body was sprawled across the ledge of the roof, his fingers stretching to get a bit closer. She climbed up the swaying fire escape until she could balance on one of the railings that hadn't succumbed to gravity. She took a gulp of air and jumped for Leon's hand.
A small yelp sounded as the fire escape landed on top of the infected dog. Aleksandra peered at the man whose hand she was swaying from. His fingers were wrapped tightly around her wrist as he motioned for her other hand. At that moment, Aleksandra was very thankful Leon Kennedy. With a slight grunt, he pulled her up on the roof.
"When this is all done and over with, I'm suing this building manager. That fire escape couldn't have been up to code," she exhaled with amusement in her voice.
"You should've just shot the thing," John said angrily.
"I was trying to avoid that mess down there," she retaliated, pointing to the small mob feasting on the dead animal. "Sorry you had to see that Stella." She tried to smile at the child, but the poor thing had just witnessed her aunt at the brink of death. She needed a moment. Aleksandra motioned towards the steel door leading inside the building.
"You will probably find Charles Westcliffe that way. I'll wait up here with them."
Leon walked away from the group, and although he trusted that Aleksandra could handle herself, he was worried about her intentions when it came to John Strife. Her dislike for him bled from her pores like a black slime. He tried to lose the vision he had just created as she tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear and smiled innocently. He had seen the internal battle she struggled with when she aimed at the corpse behind John Strife. And yet, when he turned for one final glance at his small group of survivors he saw a woman completely different from earlier. The adrenaline from the scene before had stirred a rosy hue to her usual pallor. It forced the woman to take a more…warm look. This wasn't the cold soldier he had just met. That tiny fact alone unsettled Leon.
He had been lucky: none of the infected had figured out the entrance to the small warehouse as of yet. Their attentions were on the sounds of the crash outside and the half-eaten dog remains. Charles Westcliffe had chosen the ideal location for Leon in the sense that it was an open area. He could see the entire building from the catwalk the door led onto. Following the metal walkway, he spied the office Charles had last been reported in. He sprinted towards the dark room and knocked twice before forcing the door open with his shoulder.
A stiff foot blocked Leon's path as a pool of blood flooded the cement floor around the corpse. Next to his cold hand was an expensive looking pistol. Charles Westcliffe had succumbed to what many thought was an easier route when the world fell to chaos. Leon cursed under his breath and slammed a fist into the door. Westcliffe knew help was on the way, so why the hell didn't he just wait a few more hours?
He had just placed his hand on the roof's door handle when he heard the hushed German whispers downstairs.
"Hello? I can't help you unless you show yourself."
The whispers rose into a sobbing panic when the survivor must have realized that German was not one of Leon's spoken languages. He scanned the room until a girl, no older than fifteen emerged from behind a large machine in the back. Her clothes were filthy, and dirt matted her pixie cut. Leon sighed as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He didn't save Charles Westcliffe, but someone else sure needed his help. He threw a hand in the air and waved her up while he cautiously watched the area around her. As she reached him, he tried his best to communicate his worry to her: had she been bitten? The teenager shook her head and lifted her coat sleeves to prove it. The rest of her body showed no injuries either.
"I'm Leon." He pointed to his chest.
The girl responded by pointing to her own body and stating, "Ich bin Ilda."
A frightening wail lit up the night. Leon grabbed Ilda's hand, burst through the door and interrupted quite the scene. John Strife was backed into a corner, sobbing with arms up in surrender. Aleksandra was a few feet in front of him, her gun aimed and ready to fire. John's eyes scurried towards Leon and he started pleading his case.
"She's lost it! The bitch has completely lost it!"
Leon tucked Ilda behind him and eyed Aleksandra. She didn't even glimpse at him. Every single muscle in her body was moving in an offensive maneuver.
"He's vomiting up something weird. He's infected."
As if on cue, John Strife doubled over and retched up dark bile. It was thicker than blood but held the same color. Aleksandra remained calm as she positioned herself for a clear shot. John spit out the remaining substance and screamed out a few choice words.
"She's fucking insane, man! It's not a fucking bite!" Veins on his neck; bulged from obvious anger and frustration. Aleksandra, on the other hand, remained again cold and alert.
"Aleksandra! He hasn't turned yet. We need to be sure." Leon didn't like John Strife either, but he wasn't a murderer.
"There are other lives to consider. I'm not going to take any chances!" He could tell from the eerie calm in her eyes that her mind was already made up. Leon didn't expect her to ask for his approval or consent. He didn't even have time to react as John Strife lurched up from his crouching position and started towards Aleksandra.
"You want it so fucking badly? Take the damned thing!" He dug around in his pocket as he stomped towards her, finally revealing a bright blue disk case. He threw the piece of plastic at her chest and grinned maliciously when it fell to the roof. Aleksandra's fingers tightened around the trigger as he closed in on her.
"John, back off!" Leon was quick to pull out his own pistol and take aim on the staggering man.
Behind him, he could feel Stella's small frame squeeze in beside Ilda.
"That's all you fucking care about, isn't it? That's what you wanted the whole time! Will it save him though? Will it?"
"JOHN!" Leon's voice boomed across the roof, demanding the other man's attention. John didn't even turn around. His head was against the barrel of Aleksandra's gun, daring her to kill him in front of her niece.
"YOU WILL DIE!" John's voice could have deranged a sane man.
John Strife had made a living off lying to people. He had made a name for himself by using his charm to whip the people into a panic. John Strife gained popularity by talking to the masses. And a single shot silenced him.
(A/N: "Govno" Rough Russian translation for 'shit'.)